


Bitch

by DeansDirtyPiehole



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Armpit Kink, Ass Play, BDSM, Begging For Cock, Biting, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Bondage, Breathplay, Choking, Cock Slut, Cock Worship, Come Swallowing, Dark Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Has a Large Cock, Dean Winchester In Love, Dean Winchester is Loved, Dean Winchester is a God, Dean Winchester's Big Beautiful Cock, Dean Winchester's Delicious Ass, Deepthroating, Demon Dean Winchester, Dirty Talk, Dom Dean Winchester, Dom/sub, F/M, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Facials, Foot Fetish, Golden shower, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Kinky, Kissing, Kneeling, Love, Master/Slave, Multiple Orgasms, Naked Dean Winchester, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Pain, Praise Kink, Punishment, Read the Epilogue at Your Own Risk, Rimming, Rough Dean Winchester, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, S&M, Self-Hating Dean Winchester, Slapping, Slapping Face with Cock, Slut Shaming, Smut, Spanking, Spit Kink, Sweaty Dean Winchester, Teabagging, Teasing, The Epilogue Is So Twisted That I Don't Even Want to Add Tags for It, Torture, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Humiliation, Watersports, Whipping, Worship, You've Been Warned Bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-09-11 21:22:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 67,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16860529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeansDirtyPiehole/pseuds/DeansDirtyPiehole
Summary: You worship at the altar of Dean Winchester. And now he knows it. Filthy smut ensues, in which this gorgeous god of a man degrades and dominates you like the dirty little bitch you are, in all the ways you so desperately want him to...(In Chapters 1-8, Dean is human. After that, he's a demon.)** FYI: If some of the tags turn you on, but others turn you off, no worries — this fic is clearly signposted, with detailed summaries at the beginning of each chapter and tips on how to skip the parts that explore certain kinks. At least up until the epilogue; Demon Dean has no limits, so everything from that point onward is just sick and twisted. But until then, you can probably just read what you want and ignore what you don't. Choose your own Deanbitch adventure, as it were :) **





	1. Bound

**Author's Note:**

> Smut. Lots of smut. Some super freaky kinky smut. And, mostly only in Chapter 8, just a little bit of inevitable fluff. Because this is Dean Winchester. He deserves the dirtiest worship, but also the purest love :)
> 
> Chapters 1-8 take place pre-Season 10, before Dean ever turns into a demon. The diabolically depraved, dominant dick throughout those scenes is all just Dean, completely human, really truly Dean. No matter how dark and devilish he may seem...
> 
>  ... BUT then I couldn't resist writing an extra smutty epilogue, in which Dean does become a demon. And shit gets really fucking dark and twisted. Because that's how Demon Dean would treat his dirty little bitch. This fic can definitely be read with or without the epilogue — if you do want to dive into it, read at your own risk ;)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Possessed by a particularly dirty-minded demon, you find yourself tied up in front of none other than Dean Fucking Winchester. But before he gets to exorcise the bitch out of your body, she exposes all your filthy secret fantasies about him, how you long for him to make you his complete and utter whore. Once you're back in your own meatsuit, tension builds as Dean decides just what he's going to do with you...

_Bitch_.

That was the word that pounded through your tortured mind with every passing second. Tortured, because a fucking demon had forced her filthy self inside your head, after searing the patch of skin where a certain tattoo had been supposed to keep you safe. Because she had possessed you, claimed control over your body and your soul.

But most of all, because the one man you had always wanted to possess you, to control you, to force himself inside you was standing in front of you right now. Had you all tied up and at his mercy. And you couldn't even let yourself enjoy it.

Dean. Dean Winchester. The one you loved, desired, worshiped every moment of your worthless life. You'd known that you were worthless, ever since the day he'd deigned to save you from some monster, taken pity on your poor ass. Whatever abomination that dark thing had been, it had left you with nothing—no hope, no home, no family, nothing left for which to live. You had begged him to just skip town after the hunt, the kill, to just leave you for dead, unwilling to be a burden to someone so damn beautiful.

He had refused, the saint he was. Laid you down on a bed of leather—the seat of his impossibly sexy Impala, where you remember wishing he would fuck you senseless, already wanting it so badly just mere minutes after meeting him—but he hadn't. Had just gotten behind the wheel, leaving you in the backseat with too many wounds to heal, and hit the endless road that was his way of life.

Dean had taken it upon himself to take care of you. No matter whether you deserved it, he just seemed to somehow think it was his job to save you. Keep you safe. His emo brother with the bad hair seemed to disagree, but Dean had put his foot down. And when Dean put his foot down, no one disobeyed.

Ever since then, you had been his. In every way.

Well, _nearly_ every way. Not in the way you wanted most. Dean fucked probably a hundred women every year, maybe more—it'd never been your place to know. You would never be one of them; he'd never looked at you like that. He never would. You weren't worth it.

Now here you were, making things harder for Dean, for the millionth time. And not the thing you _wanted_ to make harder. No inch of him was turned on by the sight of you tied up. Of course not. He was too consumed with hate to be aroused, besides: hate for the bitch who was inside you. Part of you wondered if he'd harbored hate for you, too, all along. You had always been deadweight after all, for quite a while now, the last thing that he needed or should ever want—a cross for him to bear, when he already bore so much. You sure as hell hated yourself for that.

All these thoughts and a thousand others plagued you, yet the one word still resounded over all the din. _Bitch. This dirty, damned, demonic bitch._ Dean Winchester was standing right in front of you, in all his glory, just the way he looked whenever he'd just fought something unholy and—as always—won: angry as fuck, green eyes ablaze and ominously darker than most days, dripping with sweat that looked and smelled like liquid sex and surely tasted even better. Towering before you where you sat, completely bound and trapped...

And you couldn't even let yourself enjoy it. Hell, you couldn't let yourself do anything. This demon bitch had your entire being in her hateful grasp. _This bitch. This fucking bitch had ruined everything..._

"Shut up, bitch," came a voice that made you swoon, the meatsuit to which you'd been reduced already soaking wet. Maybe some part of you was able to enjoy this after all.

The demon had been speaking through you—taunting Dean to get him all riled up, the way demons do best, teasing him for being too much of a wuss to torture her while she inhabited your body, the pathetic little pet whom he'd sworn to protect—and you had wanted her to shut up, too. Your heart hurt with each word she made you say, your mind revolted, and your soul loathed every bit of what was happening. But in the meantime, other parts of you apparently were loving what was happening. _Crap_. Thank God Dean couldn't see; that would've been beyond humiliating.

"Ohh," replied your voice, though not your own—victim of the most vile ventriloquy. "That's right. This little bitch likes it when you talk dirty, Dean."

Dean drew closer, and you all but died as his scent flooded your senses. You felt yourself go faint, drunk on his hot breath drenched in whiskey, on that distinctive musk of his that would make angels weep because no smell in heaven could ever be better. He stared you down, gorgeous gaze boring into yours, glaring straight past you at the demon inside. "I don't give a rat's ass what you like."

Though your body was aroused beyond belief, the bitch who had invaded it retained her full composure. Your tongue would have been in a puddle on the floor by now, had you been yourself—but since she had control, she calmly kept the pool of drool inside your mouth and curved your lip into a smirk. "Oh, I wasn't talking about me."

You saw a slight furrow form in Dean's beautiful brow. For a fleeting second, his dark gaze seemed to shift from the demon, searching instead for you where you were trapped inside yourself... but then he turned and pulled away, and you knew that you'd just imagined it. You weren't worth looking for. With Dean, you weren't worth anything. _Infinitely inferior to him in every way, worth less than the scum on the bottom of his boot..._

The demon bitch continued, smirk still dancing on her lips. Your lips. "I meant this poor whore whose body I've borrowed. Do you have any idea, Dean... just how much it turns her on... you talking dirty while she's all tied up..."

 _Oh, shit. Hell no. Fuck. Fuck._ You realized now just how much the demon was able to discover and divulge about you. You had been stupid not to think of it before. But there was nothing that you could've done besides. No way you could've shielded your darkest, dirtiest thoughts from her penetrating view inside your mind. _Fuck. Holy fuck._

You'd never wanted Dean to know. He already always looked at you like some sad piece of shit that needed to be saved—and now, if he were to find out just how deeply you loved, just how desperately you worshiped him, you would never be able to look him in the eye again; you would just die... _he couldn't know, you'd never wanted him to know..._

Apparently, for one reason or another, Dean didn't want to hear it either. "You shut your mouth," he ordered the bitch in your head, coming closer again, "or so help me God, I will make you."

You felt your eyebrows wiggle in exaggerated glee, the smirk on your lips slowly widening into a smug grin—your demon-engineered facial expression evinced none of what you were actually feeling. Namely, overflowing love, as ever in Dean's presence, and euphoria from drinking in his scent as he drew nearer, and even more so from imagining what else you wished to drink from him...

Of course, the demon read your wandering thoughts as clearly as a graphic page out of a porn magazine. "Mmm, you mean gag this little bitch? She'd really love that," your intruder all too truthfully declared on your behalf. "Gag her with your big cock and she'll get off in a second."

Shameful as it was to admit, you couldn't deny that you had thoroughly enjoyed the demon forcing those dirty words past your lips. You had never imagined uttering the phrase "your big cock" in front of Dean Winchester—well, you had certainly imagined it, but never dreamt of actually doing it—and now you just had. You as the vessel of a demon, sure, but it was still your voice. As miserable as this entire situation was, in many ways, you had to admit that you had never been more aroused.

Surely Dean wasn't feeling the same way; you were certain that you'd always been utterly unsexy to him. Then again, he had gone silent all of a sudden. Evidently tongue-tied, or maybe actually wanting to hear more... you cursed your stupid self for hoping such a thing. It couldn't be—no way he was enjoying the thought of his dick down your throat. _He'd sooner fuck an apple pie_ _than your pathetic mouth_ , you told yourself. At least the pie would be worth something to him. Satisfy his cravings, taste good, give him way more pleasure than you ever could.

While you tortured yourself with these thoughts, the demon pressed on, spewing all of your most shameful secrets in what felt like a split second. "She wants to taste you, Dean. And not just your cock..."

 _Fucking fuck_. The floodgates of your every Dean-worshiping fetish were set to burst open, you knew. And there was no way you could stop it, nothing you could do. These confessions of a shameless slut, the bitch you'd always been since the day Dean Winchester had walked into your life and sealed your fate as his devoted slave. Forever. You lived for him, and from the moment you had first laid eyes on him, you'd known that you would die for him.

The demon spoke—your thoughts, her words, her voice through yours—and Dean stayed silent. He was listening. "No, not just that delicious throbbing cock. This hungry bitch wants more. Wants to taste all of you, Dean. Every inch of your body, every drop of your come. If you'll let her. Definitely if you tell her to. Damn, would she love that. Devour you in all the dirtiest ways. Tongue all over your sweaty balls, bury her face in your ass, lick your hole, kiss your feet, suck your toes..."

"Shit..." you heard Dean breathe out, biting his plump lower lip and then licking it, glorious eyes glazing over before he shut them tight, probably trying and failing to forget what he'd just heard. _Fuck, was he beautiful_ —those perfect pink lips swollen from his own bite, glistening with the sheen of his spit where his tongue had just flicked out, green eyes fluttering closed and then open again, though still lidded and lowered a bit, beneath those long lashes you'd always loved so much, every single eyelash, each and every freckle on his flawless face... truly too beautiful for this world. For any world. All your insides imploded, seeing him like this.

Words kept spouting off from your lips. And although the demon was still doing the talking, the words started to feel more and more like your own. "She's fucking in love with you, Dean. It's so pathetic but she just can't help it. Wants you so bad. Always has. Wants to serve you, worship you, to be your slave, your fucking toilet—"

" _Enough_ ," Dean bellowed, chest heaving, demon-slaying knife in hand, fist clenching tight around the hilt until his knuckles were nearly as white as his teeth, bared in a twisted grimace that only he could make look gorgeous. Shutting off whatever part of him had wanted to hear more about these fantasies of yours. Getting back to business, as if utterly unfazed, fervently focused on the job again.

 _Hot damn, he had always been such a good soldier._ Not just for his father—for his brother, for his friends, for his own perfect soul, for the entire sorry world that he had brought upon himself to save. Fuck if that wasn't one of the things, the thousand things and counting, that you loved most and found sexiest about him. Such a good soldier. Dean stared down the demon in you, his bicep bulging beautifully, forearm flexing fiercely as he gripped the knife even more tightly and got right back to business. "If you won't tell where he's hiding—"

"Who, my boss?" the demon scoffed with a dismissive snort. "Oh, but he's boooriiiing... Why spill his secrets when we're all having such fun spilling hers...?"

"You listen to me, you godforsaken bitch," Dean growled through gritted teeth. "If you won't talk the way I want you to, then you won't talk at all, you hear me? I'll send you straight back where the sun don't shine."

The demon let out a low chuckle. "Knock yourself out, big boy. Just an excuse to get your bitch back in her own meatsuit so you can fuck her brains out, am I right? Stuff her with your meat instead?"

At that, Dean was done. " _Exorcizamus te..._ "

"Aw, come on Dean, do you really gotta do that?... You know you could just fuck both of us at once, while I'm all up inside her like this—her vulnerable body, just with me pulling the strings, talking dirty through her voice... making sure no smutty desire of hers goes unheard..."

Dean was making rapid progress with the incantation. " _... humiliare sub potenti..._ "

"What—vicarious demonic sex too kinky for you? Prude. Who knew Dean Winchester would say no to a threesome..." the demon continued, still managing words through her slimy smile as the violent convulsions took over. "... Or maybe you just want your little slave all to yourself, want to own her completely—yeah, that must be it... Dean doesn't like to share his toys..."

" _... libera nos, Domine ..._ "

"Oh, look at that..." the demon cooed in her last moments of control over your voice, fixing a firm gaze on Dean's crotch, "... someone's happy to see me say adios."

" _... audi nos!_ "

Black smoke and screams. The big hole left behind in your body, your mind, where the bad bitch had been. The gaping hole that was your soul, the good little bitch you would be for your master, begging to be filled down to the core with every perfect inch of Dean.

You were yourself again. Finally. In your own skin, tied up in front of him, your darkest thoughts laid bare for him to see, to act upon in any way he pleased. And even if the shame caused you unfathomable pain— _hell, even if it killed you_ —you were going to enjoy this. No matter what he chose to do with what he knew. In spite of and because of just how twisted all this was, you'd be damned if you weren't going to enjoy it, like the dirty whore you were.

He sauntered closer. Slowly. All too slow, yet far too fast. Your head was bowed, gaze lowered to his feet as they stepped toward you—bowed in part from exertion and exhaustion, the effects of the possession and the exorcism, sure. But much more so because of who you were. Because you were his slave. Did not deserve to meet the glory of his gaze.

Dean stood in silence there awhile. You weren't sure what to expect him to say next. The saint in him would bend down to untie your bonds, to tend your wounds, to wipe the blood and dirt smeared all across your skin and clothes from your demonic struggles mere moments ago. Make you meet his gaze, so full of pity, care, without a trace of passion or desire, pretending to forget every word that the demon had said, and promise you that you were safe, that everything would be okay.

 _Maybe_ , you mused as he stood still before you now, _maybe Dean Winchester was in no mood to be a saint today_.

When at last he spoke, you shuddered in bliss at the sound: the sheer beauty of it, his voice saturated in sex and in sin, making it clear exactly what mood he was in.

"Is it true," he muttered, tone deeper than it'd ever been, even in all your wildest dreams, "what she said?"

You bit your lip. Stared at his boots. Bobbed your head in a faint, feeble nod.

Dean leant in, his hot scent overpowering you again. The rich smell of leather from the seat of his ride, grease and gas from when he got under the wheels to fix his baby up, the pleasures of cold beer and warm pie and the women he fucked on the fly, the dirty purity of purgatory and the fires of hell itself, all the life and death and everything between that he had seen and known and conquered. And under all those loads and layers that he carried, Dean's own musky scent, the sweet smell of his skin slick with sweat. The delicious essence of both his body and his soul seeping out through his every pore for you to relish like a whore.

 _Was his scent even stronger than it had been a matter of minutes before_ , you wondered, _stronger now that he was_ —you nearly came just at the thought of it— _aroused_? You bit down harder on your lip to curb yourself from sighing, moaning, begging him for anything and everything.

Surely reading your mind, just how badly you hungered for his touch and for the taste of him, he brought his sturdy hand up to your face. Placed his forefinger underneath your chin, thumb on your lip to sweep across and wipe stray drops of blood and spit. Your soul exploded at the contact—as if of its own will, your tongue escaped your mouth to lick his thumb. _Oh, fuck_. It was the first you'd ever dared to taste of Dean. And it was utterly divine. You were officially done for, even more so than you had been before.

Before you could start sucking on that sexy thumb, kissing and worshiping each of his beautiful fingers, his hand had descended from your chin to your jawbone, framing it in a firm grip and forcing your filthy face upward to look him in the eye. You promptly died.

Dean leant in just a little bit closer and spoke again. His whisper, rough and raw, slid over the sensitive folds of your ear and then forced itself deep inside. Fucking it. Dean Winchester's voice was fucking your ear, and you were seeing fucking stars. _This had to be heaven._ Or as close as you could ever hope to get. "Every word of it?" he asked.

In response to your silence, his hand dropped down further, encircled your throat. You gasped. Gazed straight up at your master's gorgeous face and said the words you'd always wanted to. "Yes, sir."

Dean's grip on your neck tightened as you heard a low growl rumble from his gullet. But then he swallowed down the sound as soon as it had started, bit his lip hard to restrain something inside himself, and released the stifled tension in a guttural, grunting groan. At the same time, he released you from his chokehold, brought his hand up to his own sweat-beaded brow, wiped down his whole face with his palm in that distinctive way of his that you had always found so cute, so fucking sexy.

To your complete dismay, you saw that he was shaking his head. "No," he breathed. "I can't. Can't do this to you. No."

The whore in you was not taking no for an answer now, though. You knew it was never your place to question or to challenge your master, but somehow the words just fell out. "Can't, or won't?"

Flames started to flare in his golden-green glare. The ridiculously hot vision of raging Dean made your rash decision to challenge him totally worth it.

He stared at you, hard. Shook his head again. Clearly not about to tolerate you taunting him or tempting him. "Don't."

Your inner whore was on a roll, blurting out words before you could blink, let alone stop to think. "Is that an order, sir?"

" _Fuck_ ," he moaned.

The sound of that word on Dean's luscious lips—let out in a sexually charged moan, no less—was just too much. You were reduced to utter mush. The whore you were just couldn't help but swear obedience to your master, now, out loud; the urge came out in a stream-of-consciousness vow of subservience. It felt so bad, so good, to finally tell Dean Winchester just how much you would do for him. "If it's an order, sir, I will. Whatever you tell me to, sir, I will do it. Whatever you want. I'm your slave, swear I'll do what you say like a good little whore. Anything for you, Master."

Dean bit his tongue so hard you thought it might bleed.

"Please, Master. Just tell me what you want. God, Master, you're so fucking beautiful, I... I just want to serve you, I'll do anything you tell me to. Please. I..." your voice caught in your desperate throat, before your next confession, but the pause did not last long, "...I love you, Dean. I've always loved you, always will. I love you so damn much, Dean, Master, please just let me worship you. Please. Tell me what you want."

Silence hung heavy on the echo on your words. A time-stopping silence; the world held its breath in this moment. The moment of truth. This darkness inside Dean was either about to be buried forever or finally burst free. You knew deep down what you both wanted. Desired, deserved. _But did he?_

No time or place had ever been more right for Dean to make this choice. No one would ever have to know what happened here. Sam was conveniently off on a job faraway; everyone else Dean had ever cared about was dead to him, or downright dead, or both. Everyone else you had ever cared about was... well, the few there had been were all from before Dean. Ever since, he had been everything to you, and would be ever afterward, you knew.

So here you were, the two of you, alone, together, in some old abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the town to which this latest case had taken you, for all intents and purposes the outskirts of the earth. No cell reception. Not a soul for miles. Just the two of you, and the mind-blowing load of your infinite love for him, the fuse-blowing heat of every hunger you had ever had for him, devouring you from the inside out.

And Dean was in no mood to be a saint today. No, not at all. You saw it now, inside his eyes; he didn't need to say a thing aloud. You saw it all across his perfect face, could smell and taste it in the thirst for sex with which his breath was laced. And not just any sex: the filthiest sex either of you had ever fucking had. Heaven on earth, for you, though sinful in ways worthy of the deepest ring of hell.

No, Dean was in no mood to be a saint today. More like the utter opposite. Your words had put him in the mood to be a dirty, devilish, dominating dick. With you here now, as ever, his smutty, slavish, submissive slut.

And in the instant that you fell into your fated roles, set to fulfill all the desires that you'd both denied yourselves until this day, the stars aligned and all was right with all the world.

Something between a smirk and a snarl spread across his scrumptious lips. "No. Not gonna tell you what I want, bitch..."

He came toward you, and you noticed now that he had not yet let go of the demon-slaying knife. You noticed, because suddenly you felt the sharp edge of the blade, cold as ice yet somehow burning hot at the same time, against the soft skin of your belly—Dean had poised the tip of the knife under the bottom hem of your top.

"...I'm gonna show you," he growled, his gaze a glorious shade of darkest green.

The thin fabric of your tight shirt went taut with tension from the big blade, as he jerked it upward with a flick of his wrist. You held your breath, what little you even had left in his breathtaking presence.

"And I'm gonna take it."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for diving into this dirty little journey and I hope you're enjoying it so far! I'd love to hear it, if you are :) Kudos and comments are awesome and always much appreciated <3


	2. Bitten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has decided to bring all your filthy fantasies to life. He strips off some of your clothes with a knife, manhandles you, bites and sucks your nipples, slaps your face, spits on it, chokes you a little bit, and fucks your tits. All while talking down at you, degrading and humiliating you like his dirty little bitch. Then shoves his fingers down your throat to test just how deep you can take his dick. But no dick for you just yet. He's going to make you earn it.

With the sluttiest of moans, you threw your head back—though it felt a lot more like your head had thrown itself, or like the sheer force of Dean's voice had made it happen, as if exorcising any shred of innocence or dignity from your pathetic body, here and now. It felt so dirty, yet so pure, to be his utter whore.

Dean jerked his arm sharply upward again, more violently this time, and instantly your top was torn in half, sliced in a line straight down the middle of your torso. _Damn, Dean had always been good with a knife._ You gasped, feeling the blade against your bare skin once again; he had slid the tip under the front of your bra, the little strip of lace between your breasts. With another quick flick of his thickly veined wrist, the lace snapped into shreds.

"Gonna take everything I want, you fucking whore," he told you as the blade dropped to the floor. Clearly he had no plans of using it to cut your ropes, anything other than your clothes. Your limbs were all tightly secured to the chair, the split halves of your top and bra loosely collapsed at your sides.

With a gravelly growl, both hands free now, Dean bent down and clawed at the torn shreds to spread them wider, push them farther away from your body. Every move of his was frantic, feral, faster than you could even realize what was happening. You were sighing and screaming the entire time, spouting incoherent filth, shouting Dean's name along with God's in vain—the two were beginning to blur into one in the same—plus every possible combination of 'fuck' and 'yes' and 'sir' and 'Master', over and over again. Next thing you knew, his palms were pressed against your breasts, fingers indenting your flesh, leaving marks that you hoped would never fade. You wanted to be marked as his, forever, always and in all ways.

Dean was biting your neck while he bruised and manhandled your breasts. _More marks_ , you thought. _Fuck, yes_. You felt his steamy breath against the hollow of your throat now as he spoke. "Look at you, bitch. All worked up. Such a needy little slave. You fucking love me playing with your tits, don't you?" Your nipples, harder than they'd ever been beneath his touch, affirmed as much. But that wasn't enough; Dean had to hear it, demanded that you answer him, no matter how painfully obvious the answer was. "Don't you? Say it, bitch."

"Yes, sir, I fucking love it. Anything to please you, sir."

"Yeah? Anything for your master, bitch? Fuck, yeah that's it, you like it dirty. So turned on for me. Bet you want me to bite these titties. Bet you're soaking wet."

You squirmed in your seat as Dean's perfect lips dropped to your chest, sucking an entire breast into his mouth, assaulting your nipple with his slick, impossibly talented tongue, then teasing it between his teeth. "Yes, Master, so fucking wet..." you sighed.

Dean moved over to your other tit. "Wet because what, you little slut?"

"Because... because— _ugh_ , holy shit, sir, you're so fucking hot..." you blabbered breathlessly as he licked and sucked and bit down hard and totally used and abused you.

You could still hear Dean's dirty talk loud and clear, even when he spoke through a mouthful of tit. "What's that, bitch? Because you want my fucking cock?"

Your hips bucked up in a mad thrust as the most desperate 'yes' leapt out of you.

Dean's lips pulled off of your breast with a slobbery smacking sound that left you seeing fucking stars. But you had to clear your eyes as soon as it had happened—hazy vision wouldn't do, now that Dean Winchester was towering over you, and starting to take off his fucking clothes. _Holy fucking shit hot damn oh God hell yes._ You weren't sure whether that had been just in your head or said aloud; not that it mattered.

It happened fast. Too fast, yet not possibly fast enough. His shirt already flung to the floor, he unbuckled his belt in a split second, then whipped it through the loops, slung it around his neck, no doubt for later use. Before you knew it, his fly was undone, jeans and boxers at his feet then kicked across the room, along with boots and socks and then _oh holy everything_ you were finally laying eyes on Dean, just Dean, in all his naked glory, and it felt like staring straight upon the true form of an angel or the very face of God, and you thanked God then that the beauty of your master hadn't blinded you already. You took in the sight of him as if you'd never seen a thing before. Truly it felt like you hadn't. You didn't dare blink, didn't let your eyes fall closed for so much as a second. Never. No. Not with Dean right in front of you, looking like this. If anything could ever be as beauteous, as flawless as Dean's face, it was the rest of him. The firm, rippling bulge of every muscle on his body, every inch glistening with sweat and downright dripping with pure sex, the perfect shape and size of literally everything about him, and especially his... his...

Dean snickered as he watched your tongue lolling out of your mouth, drool dribbling down your lips and chin. You knew just how pathetic you looked and really didn't give a shit. Besides, you couldn't help it. You had never been more hungry, thirsty, ever in your life. It was physically impossible for you to keep your tongue inside your mouth with Dean Winchester's luscious cock hovering inches away from your face.

Your neck was arching forward, your entire body set on fire, aching with desire, but the heavy ropes still held you firmly in place. And Dean just stood there, for a matter of excruciatingly infinite seconds, not moving a muscle, that superior smirk pasted on his perfect face. So close that you could smell nothing but him, could feel the heat that radiated from his glowing skin, but couldn't taste a thing. _This was fucking torture._ Far worse than anything he'd ever used against a demon, ever learned during his time in hell, for sure.

You upraised your eyes from his dick to his equally gorgeous face, to beg him silently with your unblinking gaze. Begging your master to let you worship him. You would've used words, if you could've. But the sight of him completely naked had reduced you to a speechless piece of shit.

He snickered again, looking down at you like the worthless trash you were, the pounding silence broken as a word burst past his lips. "Bitch."

You basically came on the spot. No utterance in the history of the universe had ever been so hot. You had always imagined him calling you that, in all the many fantasies you'd had about him—both because of how downright demeaning it was, and because it just sounded so damn good whenever he said it. Hell, even in real life you secretly swooned every single time 'bitch' passed his lips, no matter how unsexy the context might be. Sounded fucking divine every time. You were sure that the word had been made for Dean Winchester's mouth.

His gaze bored into yours, piercing you to the core as you stared up at him in awe. "You look so fucking hungry. Tell me what you want, you little bitch."

Somehow you finally managed to speak, now that Dean had commanded you to. "You, Master. Your cock. I want your cock."

"Yeah? You want this?" Dean brought a hand up to his dick and started stroking it, pumping slowly up and down the length of his thick shaft. He'd already been hard for some time now, but with each stroke he seemed to grow stiffer and bigger and... _fuck_ , you could barely breathe, beholding him like this. "What do you wanna do with my cock, bitch?"

"I wanna taste it, sir," you told him. "Wanna kiss your perfect cock and worship every inch. I love your cock, Dean. Wanna suck it till you come, drink every drop."

"Mmm," he moaned, licking his lips and pumping himself faster now. "Yeah that's right, slave, you're gonna suck my dick and swallow all my come. Want me to fuck your face?"

"Holy shit, yes Master, please..." you sighed as you saw a glistening drop of precome leak out from the tip of Dean's enormous dick. Your tongue started to squirm at the sight, as if you could possibly extend it far enough to touch his cock, where he'd positioned it so cruelly out of reach.

"That's it. You're gonna fucking beg until you've earned it, bitch. Think you deserve this dick, you dirty whore?"

Every word out of Dean's mouth was straight out of your dreams. "No, sir, I don't..."

"Think your pathetic throat is worthy of my cock?"

"No, sir, not even close..." you groaned.

"Then why the fuck you begging for it, bitch?" he demanded as he kept on jerking off. On his next upstroke, he gathered up the dripping precome with his thumb. "Such a greedy little slut."

"Yes I am sir, I'm so sorry, I just want your cock so bad, I'm sorry..."

"Yeah, you better be," he scolded, suddenly bringing his hand to your face, fingers cupping your jaw, thumb up against your chin. The thumb glazed with that precious drop of precome. With a whorish moan, you lapped it up and sucked it in, finally savoring the taste of him. Fresh and sweet, rich and earthy, like morning dew mixed with the salt of the sea. Your eyes rolled deep into the back of your head as you relished Dean's wonderful flavor.

And that was when he fucking smacked your face. His smooth palm landing squarely on your cheek with a loud thwack, a sharp, exquisite sting that made you gasp in pleasured pain. You had been so dizzy drunk on his divine taste that you hadn't even seen it coming. The sudden shock of it had made the feeling all the more amazing. You fucking loved it, Dean Winchester punishing and degrading you, inflicting pain, roughing you up like a bad little slave. Just like you deserved.

He glared down at you as you gaped up at him. "Did I tell you to lick that up, bitch? Did I say you could taste it?"

"No, sir, I'm so sorry... I just couldn't help it, you taste so good Master, I've been such a bad little bitch..."

"Oh yes, you have. You know what happens to bad bitches?" he said, then pursed his lips into a tight pucker—and next thing you knew, something warm and wet was splattered on your cheek, right where he had just hit you. _Holy fuck._ Dean Winchester was spitting on your face. Again, and again, hot sticky gobs of his spit on your forehead and chin. _How did he know so well exactly what you craved?_

"They get punished," he stated. "You want me to punish you, bitch? Want me to treat you like the piece of shit you are?"

Before you could answer, Dean grabbed up your face between both of his hands, held your mouth forcibly wide open with his thumbs, then hawked up a thick load of his spit and shot it straight into your throat. You groaned, wanting more, but he pushed your mouth shut and just spat on your filthy face a few more times. You were in heaven, so completely subjugated by your master.

If there was someplace higher than heaven, he took you there by dropping one hand to your throat and fucking choking you, the other hand slapping your cheek over and over again, switching to the other cheek for good measure and then rubbing his palms into your freshly smacked face to spread his spit all over it. Marking every inch of it as his. Telling you through his dirty words and even dirtier actions that you were nothing but his nasty little bitch. Then he grabbed one of the ends of the thick belt that was still slung around his neck and started slapping you with that, the snap of leather on your skin yielding an even sharper sting. He was growling and grunting the entire time, smirking dominantly down at you, clearly enjoying your submission and humiliation almost as much as you loved it yourself.

"Aw look at that, you fucking love it, bitch," he snarled as he watched you weltering and whimpering in ecstasy. "Love being my dirty little whore. Let me do anything to you, huh? Anything I want?"

"Yes, Master, anything," you promised him, proceeding to effuse praise as you gazed up at his perfect face. "You're so beautiful, so fucking sexy, do anything you want to me... I swear I'll take it like a good little slut, sir... anything you want..."

"Yeah, be a good slave, give me everything I want. Maybe if you're good enough I'll let you suck my cock."

Your head fell back, your eyes glazed over at the thought. " _Oh my Goddddd..._ "

"You want it, bitch?"

"God, fuck, yes sir..."

You felt him shift where he stood over you and dared to dream that Dean might finally set about fucking your face. But no, of course not. _Of course you weren't worthy of that yet, maybe not ever._ He was straddling your chest, his strong thighs braced against the armrests, dick in hand—but instead of your mouth, he was pushing it into your breasts. Not the forced blowjob you hungered for, but still, holy hell it felt good.

"Yeah," he groaned as he rubbed the slippery head of his hard cock all over your tits. "You want my dick, bitch? Wanna take this big dick down your filthy fucking throat?"

"Yes, Master, I want it so bad, wanna feel your big dick at the back of my throat..."

"Mmmn," he growled, sweeping his cock over your sensitive nipple, leaving a sticky trail of precome all across your tender skin. Then he nestled it into your cleavage and drove his hips closer toward you, dick angled upward so that the firm shaft slid over your neck and the tip touched the soft skin behind your chin. He thrust back and forth slowly a few times like that, fucking your tits and basically fucking your throat from the outside, a torturous tease. One of his hands braced on the back of the chair, he tangled the other in your hair and yanked your head back so you couldn't bow it down, the way you wanted to, to taste his cock when he thrust up toward your face. Though it was torture, still it felt so good, like everything Dean did to you. You sighed loudly as his massive meat rubbed up against your neck, letting out a low humming sound, hoping that the vibration of your vocal cords would please him, and apparently it did.

Dean started thrusting harder; you felt his balls brushing your breasts on the upstroke, heavy and damp with his heavenly sweat. You wanted so badly to reach up and cradle his balls, massage and worship them, but still your hands were tied. You weren't sure how much longer you could take this, not being able to touch your master, nor allowed to taste him...

All the while, you kept gushing about how beautiful he was, how much you loved him, wished to serve him, and he kept on calling you a fucking bitch, a filthy whore, as if either of you needed to be reminded that your master was a perfect god and you were the pathetic slave who lived to worship him. But it was always worth repeating, always felt so good for both of you to say it and to hear it.

You only wished that you could freely, fully show Dean just how much you loved him, use your hands and mouth and every other part of you to pleasure him. Yet you didn't dare to ask, for that or for anything now. He knew exactly what you wanted, and denying your desires was part of his utter domination over you, asserting just how little you mattered to him, just how little you deserved, if anything at all.

After he'd smacked and spat on your face several more times, and on your tits too after he was finished fucking them, using both his big hands and the leather belt to further punish you, you felt Dean lift away from you and take a few steps back. His rigid cock bobbed gently up and down between his sculpted thighs with every move he made; you told him for the billionth time how beautiful he was.

"Bitch," he breathed out in reply. Every time he said it was as earth-shatteringly sexy as the first. His glowing green eyes skimmed over you from head to toe, with no ounce of the adoration in your own when you beheld his gorgeous form— _rightly so_ , you mused, as there was nothing remotely worth loving or admiring about you. He then ran a hand through his rich light brown hair, flicked his tongue over his pouty pink lips. "What a fucking slut. Never looked prettier than when you've just been ravaged by your master."

You were sure that it was true; you could feel the skin on your face and your bare torso glistening with a mix of Dean's sweat and your own, plus a thick, shiny coat of his precome and spit. His bodily fluids were so glorious that they could probably make the cheapest whore look beautiful. You couldn't wait till you were covered with his come—however much of it Dean didn't want you to swallow.

"Thank you, Master," you whimpered.

"What's that, slave?" His hand rose to his big, hard dick and started stroking it.

"Thank you for making me pretty, sir. For ravaging me with your perfect cock. Thank you for punishing me, smacking me and spitting on my filthy face." You said it and meant it. You were so genuinely grateful for every single nasty thing Dean did to you.

That sexy smirk of his suggested that he knew it. "God, you're so fucking pathetic," he sneered.

"Yes, Master, I'm your pathetic little bitch..."

"Shut up and let me look at you," he ordered.

You obeyed, of course, biting your lip as he extended his free hand toward you, strong fingers twining in your messy hair. He pulled your head forward a bit, just enough that the tip of his cock almost, _almost_ touched your tongue, which had since fallen out of your mouth and was now hanging desperately low, drooling like mad at the sight and the smell of his dick. The hot scent of Dean's sweaty crotch was basically crack to you. _Which made you the world's biggest crack whore_ , you knew.

"Mmmn, look so pretty like that, little bitch," he said as he pumped himself into the sliver of space between the head of his cock and your ever-thirsting tongue. "Covered in my juices. Craving all my come. Think you can take it, every drop?"

You weren't sure whether he still wanted you to shut up, so you nodded.

"Yeah? Let's see about that. See how deep your fucking whore throat really is."

He lowered his hand from your hair to your cheek, sticking his thumb inside your mouth to hold it open wide, raising the other hand from his dick toward your lips. His forefinger poked at your tongue, then swiftly slid along the slick surface to probe your hungry throat, as far deep inside as he could possibly go. Meeting no resistance, he stuck in a second finger, then a third. You normally had a gag reflex—this you knew from your attempts to deep-throat toys, which you'd occasionally employed during your dirty Dean fantasies. Mostly just for fun, but also wishfully as training, just in case he ever deigned to fuck your face one day. Yes, you had dared to dream, no matter how hopeless it'd always seemed.

And now here you were, with Dean inserting four of his thick fingers in your mouth to test your limits, see how deep your throat could take him. And whatever gag reflex you'd always had was suddenly just _gone_. It was as if all of the dignity-destroying dirty talk today had broken through your throat's virginity and left it gaping open, bottomless for your beautiful master to use and abuse. _As Dean might say_ , you mused, _your throat had been de-hymenated_.

"Mmmm," he hummed, smiling devilishly as he watched you gulp and gasp around his penetrating hand. You could taste the faintest traces of his cock meat on his fingers, since he'd been using this same hand to stroke himself moments ago. The sweetest hint of heaven, and you savored it. His other hand had dropped away from your cheek and back down to his dick, no longer needed to pry your mouth open—his invasive fingers were doing a fine job of that all on their own. "So good like that, you fucking slut. Know my dick's gonna go even deeper, yeah?"

Your head bobbed in another nod, as a low moan of affirmation and euphoria escaped your violated throat.

"Once you've earned it, slave," your master chided as he pulled his fingers out, sloppy and sopping wet with your own spit, which he proceeded to rub all over your face and tits, with a few rough smacks before he pulled away to look down on your ravaged body once again. "Mmm, look at you. Swear you never looked better. Such a nasty little bitch."

Your breaths came heavy through your mouth as you stared up at him, relishing the sound of his subjugating words and the lingering taste of his skin. His backhanded compliments were music to your ears; you could listen to him all day, praising you for being such a pretty piece of shit.

But then Dean cocked his head, glorious green eyes narrowed dangerously, hand dropping away from his dick. To your utter dismay, you saw a deep, dark shade of disapproval entering his gaze. You trembled as he gestured toward your vulnerable body. "But you know what's wrong with this picture?"

You were too terrified to even try to think what he might mean. Your heart stopped and then started to hammer in panic, full of shame and self-hate at the thought of displeasing your master. _You would sooner die than fail to please Dean Winchester, fail to live up to your duty as his slave in every way..._

Dean sat on his haunches, reaching for the knife that he'd cast to the floor some time ago; you silently admired every beauteous bulge and bend of his well-muscled legs as he squatted down to retrieve it, then stood back up, hefting the heavy weapon in his strong hands. He then fixed his gaze on your face again, running his eyes across your naked upper body and your bound limbs. You shivered beneath the chilling heat of his smoldering glare. And he told you just what was wrong with your present position before him.

"Bitches belong on their knees."

 


	3. Buried

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are just dying to be down on your knees in front of Dean. But before granting you that dream, he has another position in store. Throws you down onto the floor, sits on your face, smothers and suffocates you with his ass, all the while slowly cutting away at the ropes that still bind you. You sniff his ass crack till he finally lets you worship it, get your hungry tongue all over his delicious hole and deep inside it. Meanwhile he fingers your soaking wet pussy and plays with your clit.

_Bitches belong on their knees._  

It was like floodgates suddenly burst open somewhere deep inside you, at those words—you were already beyond dripping wet, from everything that Dean had said and done to you so far, but that phrase from his perfect mouth was simply too much for your whorish self to handle. As much as you had loved him using you while you were all tied up, you couldn't wait to kneel before your master, to worship him in all the ways you wanted to. You felt a puddle pooling in your crotch, no doubt seeping through your panties and probably even your pants at this point, which Dean had so cruelly left on all this time.

You knew just how pathetic you surely looked, squirming in your seat and soaking wet, biting your lip against the urge to speak, to sigh, to scream—you still weren't sure whether you were allowed to make a sound. For when your master told you to shut up, you stayed shut up, like the good little slut you were supposed to be.

Eyes wide, every inch of you trembling, you watched as Dean moved from his station in front of you, slowly circling toward the back of the chair. Once he was standing behind you, he laced the fingers of his free hand in your sweat-matted hair, and then— _holy fuck_ —was that warm, solid mass of flesh pressing hard into the back of your head...  _was that his holy fucking cock...?_

You knew it was, but before you could enjoy the contact for so much as a second, all the wind was whipped from your lungs in an instant as the room collapsed in front of you, a whoosh of air blowing past as you suddenly found yourself flat on your back. You had landed on the cold floor with a heavy thud, all your limbs still firmly tied to the capsized chair. Your head hurt, of course, and your vision was spinning a bit, from the shock and the force of the impact—but knowing that Dean was the one who had yanked the chair down to the ground, it felt fucking divine. Especially now that he was towering so high above you, like the god he was, your filthy face brought to the level of his feet where it deserved to be.

Had your vision been clear in the few seconds after the fall, you might have seen a spark of something not so masterful in Dean: you might have seen his gorgeous face tense into something like concern, a flash of worry that he may have taken things too far, even guilt at the thought of having actually hurt you. But as it was, you didn't see. He blinked it away quickly, reassured himself that he had jerked the chair down as gently as he possibly could, without coming across any less forceful and dominant than you desired—a difficult balance to strike, but he had—and even cushioned your fall with his foot, placing it right where your head would land so that it didn't have to hit the rough, hard floor. You hadn't noticed, not at all. As far as you could tell, in this moment, he didn't give a shit about you, and that was as it should be, and you'd willingly and happily let him do literally anything to you.

Dean knew you wanted it that way. At least for now. And he could see it in your face, and hear it in the little sounds that you were making—mostly whimpers of pleasure, very little if any of pain—that you really were okay, and so he let himself fall fully back into his role, set to go on abusing, dominating, torturing you all over again. 

By the time you'd blinked twice and returned to your senses, he was standing with his bare feet on the floor on either side of your head, staring down at you, offering your dizzy eyes the most breathtaking view you had ever beheld in your life. You could see everything you wanted, needed, loved from this amazing vantage: Dean's beautiful face looking distantly down on your own; the thick, pink column of his perfect cock; his heavy balls so full of come you couldn't wait to taste; the crevice of his sweaty ass, which looked even more delicious than you'd ever dared to dream...

The view was so damn good you didn't even stop to wonder why Dean had you on your back, after having said that you belonged on your knees. Especially not as you watched his lips lift up into that sexy smirk of his, right before he squatted over your face, lowering himself till his balls were mere inches away from your mouth, his butt crack poised in tantalizing closeness to your slutty snout. You instantly inhaled the deepest breath of your entire sorry life, through nose and mouth alike. The scent that filled your senses was too much to take in silence. "Oh my God, Master..."

"I told you to shut up, bitch," Dean scolded as he got to work on the ropes at your wrists. His position squatting over you provided him with easy access to the armrests where your arms were still securely bound. "You do as I say, or I swear there will be hell to pay."

You held back a moan; needless to say, you really liked the sound of Dean making you pay. But you had to be a good slave. Bit your tongue as you fought every urge to praise his perfect ass. But then... but then he scooted ever so slightly forward and downward, his balls dropping below your chin, ass spreading wider as he squatted lower over you, so that the crack opened up just enough for you to glimpse the tight pink pucker of his asshole. He had done it on purpose, you knew, to torment you. There was no way in hell you could bite your tongue now—your tongue had a will of its own, in that moment. Couldn't possibly be stopped from arching out of your pathetic mouth toward that sinfully sweet, sweaty hole.

Your hungry tongue strained and strove. _If only it could reach a millimeter more..._

Your master's deep voice then broke through your desperate daze. "Don't you dare lick my ass, bitch. Not yet."

_Fucking shit_ —every cell in your body revolted against the restraint, but you knew that you had to obey.

And of course, in a brutal stroke of pure torture, it was right after Dean had issued that command that he sank lower toward your snout. "Not till I tell you to," he forbade, settling onto your face, the tip of your nose nearly touching his hole. "Just shut your mouth and sniff that ass, you fucking whore."

You pursed your lips in an effort to seal them shut as well as you could, which was a struggle with his beautiful butthole spread before you, just begging to be worshiped. Luckily enough, the other part of your master's command was easier to follow. It was basic instinct, after all, for you to suck in and relish the heavenly scent of his ass as his hole hovered over your face. He smelled so fucking dirty, so fucking divine...

"Mmm, that's it, bitch. I smell good, don't I? Taste even better," Dean devilishly teased.

You could barely take the torture, but you bit your lip and forced yourself to take it like the worthless slave you were.

Meanwhile, he was deliberately working very slowly on your ropes, the blade sawing away at your bonds bit by bit. He could've cut through all of them in seconds, if he'd wanted to, you knew. But no, that wasn't what he wanted. Apparently he was enjoying squatting on your face. Rightly so—few positions, if any, could be more degrading to you. And degradation was exactly what a bitch like you deserved.

"Fuck yeah, slut, you know you love it," he grunted as his knife sliced through another coil of rope. "Love the smell of your master's ass. Look at that fucking pussy, soaking wet while you're sniffing my shithole."

" _Oh god, yes!_ " you gasped, biting your lip hard as soon as the words had slipped out. It was simply too hot, what he had said, the way he had said it, the thought of him seeing your pussy juice seep through the crotch of your pants while you squirmed underneath him and inhaled his ass...

"Did I say you could speak, slave?" he rasped; you could tell from the guttural heat in his tone that something extremely dirty was in store. It thrilled you to the core. "You don't speak till I say so. You don't fucking _breathe_ till I say so, you hear me?"

You heard him loud and clear. In case you hadn't, though, Dean made sure you would do what you were told, this time. He flexed his thighs and then, in one swift motion, he was well and truly sitting on your face—your whole nose literally lodged inside his asshole, pursed lips pressed against his taint, chin smothered by his sweaty balls, your filthy face buried beneath the full weight of his beautiful body.

It was seriously happening. _Dean Winchester was fucking suffocating you with his amazing ass._ You had dreamt of this very thing more times than anyone with any shred of dignity could possibly admit. You were in heaven while your soul and body burned with all the fiery heat of hell. And Dean's dirty talk, as always, made everything even hotter.

"Aw yeah, that's it. Face buried in my ass like a good little bitch," you heard him groan above you, his muscular butt cheeks contracting firm and tight around your face. "Don't want you to fucking breathe."

All sense of time slipped away as you lost yourself in the living dream, drowning in the dirtiest essence of Dean. In all honesty, you would've been perfectly happy dying of asphyxiation in his sweet ass—truly, the only tragic thing to come of it would be that you could no longer worship him once you were dead. But if that was what your master wanted, then who were you to want it any other way...

Apparently it wasn't what he wanted, you realized as he eventually rocked forward just a bit, raising his ass off of your nose, allowing air into your lungs again. You breathed it in, even though all you craved, all you really wanted to breathe was the heat of his ass crack. You were addicted; Dean Winchester gave the whole concept of ass crack new meaning. But apparently he didn't want you to die of an overdose. Apparently he still had other uses for you.

Somewhere in the literally breathtaking bliss of getting smothered by your master, you had forgotten about his command to stay silent. You just couldn't help but thank him for gracing your worthless face with his glorious ass. Your mouth was still partly muffled by the tender skin between his butthole and his balls, but you spoke anyway. "Thank you for letting me smell your ass, Master," you murmured.

"Oh god, you're such a nasty fucking _whore_!" he exclaimed in a heated grunt, a tight spasm rippling through his body upon hearing your words; you felt him twitch and tremble for a second where he squatted over you. It was almost as if your thank-you had dealt him some sort of shock. As if he he had been surprised to hear you say it, surprised by just how truly grateful and worshipful you were toward him.

_How could Dean possibly be surprised about that, though? Did he not know how perfect he was?_ Surely he knew. You must've just imagined it. _How stupid of you._

"Ugh, so fucking nasty. Thanking me for sitting on your face," he scoffed as he steadied himself, resumed slicing the few ropes that still bound your arms. "You're a pathetic piece of shit, you know that?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you still won't shut up like you're told. Bad slave."

"I'm so sorry, sir..." You were. You weren't, but you were. You squirmed in shameless shame. "I'm so sorry, but I... I just love your ass so much, Master, I just..."

"Yeah? Love that ass so much I bet you wanna kiss it, don't you, bitch?"

Dean knew exactly what words like that did to you. "Yes, Master, oh my God yes...!"

"Bet you'd kiss it real good, slut. All wet and sloppy like you love it more than anything. You wanna taste it? Tongue deep in my hole and fucking lick that shit?"

You'd lost count of how many times in a row you had screamed "yes" by now.

"Mmm, yeah let's see just how bad you want it, bitch."

You heard a dull clink as Dean dropped the knife onto the floor beside him. But before you could even realize that he had finished cutting the ropes at your arms, before you could react to the fact that your arms were both finally free—Dean Winchester's perfect hands were suddenly upon your crotch, and you lost all ability to function or to comprehend a thing.

He was unzipping your fly, then ripping through your panties with his bare hands, and then dipping a finger inside you and making you scream, even louder than when you'd been in the throes of exorcism, more euphorically than in your wildest dreams.

"Holy shit," Dean groaned as he pawed at your pussy, eager fingers invading your wet folds, already becoming infinitely wetter at the magic of his touch. "You're so fucking wet. Dirty whore, dripping wet for your master. Mmmn."

He kept on swirling and stirring you up, venturing ever deeper, opening you wide, and you kept on screaming and sighing and dying, little deaths that made you feel impossibly alive. As if every single inch of your slick inner walls was an explosive G-spot now. Upon contact with Dean, every nerve ending inside of you was set on fire, each of his fingers like a key unlocking secret vaults of ecstasy, triggering what felt like an infinite orgasm, a tidal wave that surged toward the sky and never wanted to come down. _No way this was real life. Just no way._ It was fucking supernatural.

"Fuck. Feels so good, pussy all nice and wet for me," he breathed as his thumb brushed your clit, promptly killing you. "What gets you so wet like this, bitch?"

You weren't quite capable of cobbling words together at the moment.

"Tell me."

"You, Master," you managed to moan in reply, spurred on to say more as his movements became more aggressive, demanding. "The sight of your cock. The smell of your ass. Wanna taste you so bad."

"Mmm, know you do. Such a hungry little slut. Makes my dick so fucking hard, seeing just how pathetic and desperate you are."

The degrading thought of Dean being turned on by your pitifully desperate desire for him was so dirty, so hot, you forgot how to make words again. "Ohhh..."

"Bet you want this big cock in your tight wet pussy, don't you, slave? Want me to fuck the shit out of you? Bury my dick deep inside your pathetic cunt?"

Your eyes had rolled into the back of your head by this point, tongue lolling out of your lips like a mad bitch in heat. The dirty pleasures you derived from his words had become too damn much. Low, longing moans escaped your throat, your useless mouth unable to articulate the simple, obvious answer of "yes sir."

"Ugh, dumb slut can't even fucking speak," Dean sneered, talking down at you like the sorry piece of shit you knew you were. "Why don't you put that filthy little mouth of yours to use."

_Holy fuck—did he mean what you think he meant? Dreamt he meant...?_ You gulped as you gazed at the glorious hole that was still spread before your face.

"That's right, bitch," he affirmed, clearly reading your mind. "Eat my ass."

Never in all your life had you obeyed an order faster, more eagerly and more entirely, than now. You pressed your lips into his sweaty pink pucker and kissed it. You kissed it, and you instantly lost sight of the fine line between reality and your most twisted fantasies, which became ever more blurred. You still couldn't believe just how lucky you were. _You were kissing Dean Winchester's beautiful ass._ Once sweetly, softly, just to show how much you loved him; twice with passion and a bit of tongue, to swear and seal a vow of everlasting servitude; and then over and over again, till you were well and truly eating out your master's asshole, downright making out with it, wet and sloppy just like he wanted, worshiping him with long, deep French kisses that left you both gasping for air.

And it was like his asshole fucking kissed you back—every few seconds you felt his hole tighten around your tongue, sucking you further into him. He tasted even better when he did that. _As if it were even possible for his butthole to taste any better._

"Yeah, just like that, slave," Dean grunted as he clenched his ass, strangling your tongue with his hot sphincter while his fingers pumped your pussy deep and slow. "Fuck, yes... show your master just how much you love that ass..."

And you did. You buried your face deeper between his cheeks, savoring every bit of Dean's dirtiest depths: every drop of sweat in and around his hole, the ripe scent of the last shit he took, the flavor of it still fresh on your probing tongue, the secret beauty of each freckle in the skin around his entrance, sacred treasures all too often hidden from the world. But not from you today. You pulled back for a second just to look at them, to kiss each one, to let him know how deeply he was loved.

So lost in your fathomless love for him, you hadn't even noticed that the steady stream of dominating dirty talk from Dean had faded out. That his guttural, animalistic growls and groans had given way to blissful sighs and moans that sounded soft and beautiful and totally not masterful. That he was playing with your clit— _on purpose_ , not just because it was there in the way of his hands while he fingered your slit—toying with it tenderly, carefully, as if your pleasure mattered. That the bucking of his hips over your face had turned less violent, wild, into a rhythm that was smooth and almost sweet. As if, instead of fucking himself on your tongue as he had been before, Dean wanted his ass to make love to your mouth. As if.

You didn't notice, though. You were too busy happily slurping and slobbering all over his shithole to notice a thing. "Oh my God, Master, I love you so much," you moaned into his ass as you worshiped the gorgeous freckles sprinkled all across his crack.

And when your name slipped past his lips in a passionate whisper just then, you were too busy slavishly singing his praises to hear it.

"You are so beautiful, sir," you effused, kissing each little freckle again and then sweeping your tongue in a stripe up his ass to lick all of them. "So beautiful. So perfect. Holy fucking shit."

Hearing you talk like that snapped Dean back to his senses, especially after your tongue plunged back into his delicious sphincter, deeply and desperately. A deviant, dominant smirk entered his voice with his next words. "More like shitty fucking hole."

_Fuck, that was hot. How was Dean Winchester always so damn hot._ His fingers were selfishly assaulting your pussy again, he was riding your face like a fucking saddle, calling you all manner of filthy things, and for all you knew he had never given a shit about you or your clit. And it was perfect.

"Nasty bitch. Licking my ass so deep. Ugh, you fucking love that shit," he growled.

"Yes, Master, I love it," you answered as well as you could while you ravenously ate him out, never getting enough of his flavor. "Your ass tastes so good."

"Yeah? Bet you wanna lick that ass all day long, don't you? Dirty whore."

"Yes, sir. If that's what you want, sir, I would."

He let out a low chuckle, the sexiest laugh you had ever heard. "Don't get too comfy down there, slave. Master still wants to use you in other ways."

Dean didn't need you to remind him that you'd gladly let him use you in whatever ways he desired.

It was only when he retrieved the knife from the floor, to start cutting the ropes at your legs, that you realized that your arms had been unbound for quite some time. Lying numb and useless at your sides ever since they had been untied. _You were so fucking stupid_ , you silently scolded yourself. The first thing you did with your finally free hands was grab at the firm flesh of your master's incredible ass, massaging the beautifully sculpted cheeks, thumbs prying into his crack to spread his sweet hole open wider for your ever-hungry tongue.

"Ugh, you greedy little slut," he groaned as you pawed at his butt. "Did I say you could use your hands?"

You reluctantly slipped your tongue out of your master's ass to answer. "No, sir..."

"So you've been a bad bitch, haven't you." His gruff voice didn't lift into a question.

You knew you deserved to be punished—but you weren't prepared for the torture of watching his perfect ass pull away from your mouth as Dean rose to his feet, his muscular legs all tensed up from the prolonged squat over your pathetic face.

Your own legs were still partially tied to the chair so that you couldn't move. Not that you would've, even if they'd been unbound; your master's intense stare as he towered over you kept you securely in place. Your gaze darted from his gorgeous, furious face to his raging hard cock and then back again.

Dean wrapped his hand around his dick and started stroking it as he glared down at you. "Such a bad fucking bitch."

You shuddered and squirmed. "I'm so sorry, sir..."

"Oh, no you aren't," he snarled darkly. "Not yet."

 


	4. Beaten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ** FYI: If you're not into foot stuff, you can check the Notes to see where to skip ahead :) **
> 
> Dean stands over you and rubs his feet all over your mouth and nose as you eagerly lick his heels and kiss his soles and suck his toes. Then he finally has you kneel in front of him, face down, ass up, takes his belt and starts whipping your ass while you worship his feet. He lets you slobber all over his sweaty balls, then orders you to stroke his rock hard cock, all while you keep on begging for the privilege of sucking him off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, for those not into foot stuff, it stops about halfway through this chapter. So feel free to scroll ahead a bit! I'm generally not into feet unless they're Jensen's/Dean's (damn that man does things to me...), so no worries, I get it :P
> 
> To skip the foot stuff, you can ctrl+F "Ohhh my God" and start reading from there.
> 
> Just as a heads up—skipping the foot worship means skipping the ass whipping, since they happen simultaneously. But Dean will still have plenty of opportunities in future chapters to inflict pain and punishment on his little bitch ;)

"I am, Master, I promise—so sorry if I didn't please you..."

"You better be, slave," he admonished as he started fisting his dick faster, harder.

You watched, hypnotized at the hot sight of Dean jerking off his own beautiful cock. Silently marveled at how long he had been withholding his come, so far through everything the two of you had done. "So sorry, I swear...I live only to serve you, sir..."

"Yeah? Only to serve your master?"

You nodded, tongue hanging out of your mouth, hungering for his cock or the taste of his ass again, any and every inch of him that he would deign to give.

He snickered. His sexiest, most subjugating snicker yet. "Good. That's all you're worth, bitch," he growled, shifting a bit where he stood over you. "Now service this."

Next thing you knew, Dean Winchester was stepping on your face. One of his perfect feet pushing down on your tongue, forcing you to lick the tough skin of his sole as his toes wiggled over your nose. He rubbed his foot back and forth over your face, easily balancing most of his weight on the other.

You groaned and sighed; it felt so right. So fucking hot. You had always been worth less than the ground on which he walked. You had desperately wanted to worship at Dean's feet from the moment you'd first met him. And ever since you had first glimpsed him barefoot, when he'd flopped down in bed one night after a hunt and kicked his boots and socks off just before falling asleep, his dirty feet laid bare for you to stare, you'd harbored fantasies about servicing them. Massaging them, with hands and mouth alike, licking them clean of every bit of sweat and grime. You dreamt about it all the time.

Yes, that made you a disgusting piece of shit. And no, you weren't ashamed of it. Not one bit.

Dean Winchester in all his glory deserved nothing less. And so much more.

You left sloppy, passionate kisses all over the sensitive arch of his foot as he kept swiping it across your face. When his hard, calloused heel hit your lips, you opened your mouth wide to suck on however much of it fit inside.

"Yeah that's it, worship my feet, slut... show me what a nasty slave you really are..."

You did the best you could, praying that it might be good enough for your master. He alternated feet on your face to make sure that you worshiped both of them properly. Rubbed the balls of his feet all over your pathetic snout. Shoved his toes into your mouth—just the big toe, at first, then building up to all five at once, stretching your mouth open painfully wide. You licked and sucked on every single one, then cleaned the spaces in between them with your tongue. The flavor of sweat on his feet was different from his ass: it tasted just as dirty, though a different kind, but equally delicious and divine. Like every bit of Dean.

He smirked as he watched you servicing his toes, your eyes hazy with pleasure as you savored the taste and the smell and the slavish subjugation of it all, heightened by the sight of him standing over you pumping his cock, hard as a fucking rock as he degraded and humiliated you. "Ugh, look at you. Cleaning your master's feet up with that dirty little mouth."

"Mmmn, yes, Master," you moaned as you kissed the fleshy pad of his big toe, swept your tongue in loving circles underneath the knuckle of it. "Thank you for letting me worship your beautiful feet."

His foot moved away from your snout, resting at the side of your cheek for a second. "Good-for-nothing whore. What'd'ya say we shine that filthy fucking face of yours."

You knew just what he meant, and it felt so damn good to have Dean spitting on your face again. _God, he had good aim._ Gobs of hot spit dropped from his perfect lips onto your forehead, cheeks, and chin, and then he used the sole of his foot to smear it everywhere, get your face nice and shiny, covered in the filth from his feet and a film of his spit. You hoped you looked prettier for your master now, like this.

"Aw fuck," he groaned, still stroking his massive dick. "You love it, don't you, bitch. Love it when your master spits on your pathetic face."

"Yes, Master, I love it so much," you told him as you started lapping up his precious toes again. "Thank you, sir."

"Mmm. You think you look pretty like this? Licking my feet after I spit all over you?"

You gulped as you worshiped his pinky toe. _What were you supposed to say, to that?_ Thankfully, soon enough the answer came to you. "Only if you think so, sir."

He let out a smug, satisfied snicker. "Good slave. You know what I think?" Dean pulled his foot out of your mouth and let go of his dick. His other hand hadn't let go of the knife, since last he had been using it to cut the ropes binding your legs—he bent over now and resumed slicing through them. In a matter of seconds, they'd all come undone. Your calves collapsed loosely away from the legs of the chair to which they had been tied for so long; you weren't surprised to find they were completely numb.

_Well, maybe not completely_ —you sure as hell felt your master's hands upon them as he ripped away what remained of your clothes. "I think," he breathed as he yanked off your pants, tossed them off to the side, "I know how you would look even prettier."

He grabbed up the torn shreds of your shirt and bra and panties in his fists and flung them somewhere faraway. Hoisted you roughly up from the floor, forcing you into the position that you most often took before him in your wildest fantasies.

And then he grinned at you, a downright devilish and godly gorgeous grin that made your insides burn and freeze. "I think it's high time you got on your knees."

You knelt before your master, both of you completely naked now, save for the belt that Dean had still kept slung around his neck. Every inch of skin bare to the cold air in this godforsaken place, cold all throughout the vast, abandoned space, save for the radius of heat that raged around the two of you, a furnace burning on the fuel of heavy breaths and hellish fires of the flesh.

A ravished growl rumbled from somewhere deep in Dean's gut, releasing from his throat in a gratified groan at the sight of you kneeling before him. Your panting mouth hovered criminally close to his perfect cock, hypnotized by the massive hunk of meat and hungrier than ever. You dared to wonder, for a moment, whether he would finally... _finally_...

"Face down, ass up," he then ordered bluntly, breaking through your hopeful daze, sneering as you blinked and gaped stupidly up at his beautiful face. "Go on, slut. Face back down at my feet, and get your ass up in the air where I can see it."

As soon as you had comprehended the command, you wasted no time resuming the ravenous foot worship, while arching your back as steeply as you could to lift your rear end high, just as your master had commanded.

"Mmmm," Dean hummed as he stared down at your bare back and upraised rump. "Look at that fucking ass. Just begging to be punished, ain't it. To take all your punishment for being such a bad little bitch."

"Yes, Master, fuck yes," you moaned between pressing hot kisses all over his ankles, running your lips and tongue over his statuesque knobs and ridges of bone. You would gladly take your punishment if you weren't worshiping him well enough. _Or even if you were._ If he just liked to see you squirming in the throes of torture. Whatever he liked, anything he wanted, always; that was what you lived for.

You heard the sultry sound of leather sliding over sweat-slick skin as Dean slipped the belt off from around his neck. Though you couldn't witness what was happening while facedown at his feet, you could easily envision him handling the thick strip, gripping it by the buckled end and fashioning a makeshift whip. Could feel your pussy dripping just imagining it. How incredibly hot he surely looked while getting ready to inflict pain on your vulnerable ass. Just the thought nearly got you off...

And then came the pain. With a sharp shock and then in steady waves it came, sending shockwaves from the base of your spine to your brain, as your master's weapon came down hard on your naked skin over and over again. A sensation so intense it made you lose all sense, thrusting you back and forth between heaven and hell until you couldn't tell the difference, blowing your mind so hard that you probably forgot your name. With Dean, now and always, pleasure and pain became one in the same.

Some part of your boggled brain registered that he was avoiding the patch of scorched skin at the small of your back, where the demon—while inhabiting some stranger's body—had burned off your tattoo, before she'd entered you. The wound wasn't so serious as to require immediate attention, but it was fresh and surely wouldn't heal as well if Dean decided not to care that it was there, to let the belt land where it would've hurt you most. He didn't, though. You weren't sure why, but you were much too busy servicing his feet to wonder over it for long.

Every few blows, you would say "thank you, sir" through a mouthful of his toes. Thanking him more so for flogging you than for minding your injury; the well-deserved punishment brought you more pleasure by far than his incomprehensible gesture of mercy. And he knew it.

Your thank-yous always spurred him on to call you 'bitch' again and bring the belt down even harder on your butt cheeks, which by now had probably gone from rosy pink to cherry red, just like you wanted. You prayed that the added color made your pathetic ass look prettier to your master. Hoped that the sight of you in abject pain, taking your punishment like a good little slave, was pleasing to him. That his huge cock was getting ever harder watching you like this, whimpering in excruciating ecstasy while you relished his abuse and worshiped at his feet.

"Ugh, such a nasty slut. You fucking love it," Dean snarled as he lashed his belt again, again, against the burning, begging flesh of your bare backside. Each flick of his wrist, each crack of his whip, scoring you with scars to brand you as his slave, reminding all the world that you were his. "Love when your master punishes your sorry ass, puts you through a world of hurt. Don't you."

"Yes, Master, I do."

"Mmm, yeah that's it bitch, keep kissing my feet while I whip your ass. Worshiping your master like the desperate slave you are. Gets my cock so fucking hard."

"Ohhh my God, yes sir..."

"Bet you still wanna suck this big cock. Bet you want it so bad, don't you, whore."

His impossibly hot words went straight to your core. "More than anything, Master."

"Yeah, know you do. Bet the thought of me fucking your face gets you all soaking wet," Dean growled, the steady assault of leather on your ass suddenly coming to a stop, as he bent down and grabbed your filthy hair to force your head back toward his crotch. "Come on, get up, slave. Let's see if you've earned it yet." 

All your limbs a limp and trembling mess, you gripped your master's sturdy thighs to steady and support yourself. A welcome excuse to grope the smoothly bulging muscles of his legs, gorgeously shaped, exuding stamina and strength. You felt the sweat of his skin slick against your palms, while you inhaled the musky heat that washed over your senses as your snout came closer toward his sweaty balls.

Dean's hand was still twined firmly in your tangled hair; he yanked your head back now to meet his gaze as you knelt dutifully before him. You saw that the belt was slung around his neck again, and you saw fervent fires flare in his intense golden-green glare. He brought his other hand up to his cock to stroke himself, slowly, a dominant smirk dancing at the corner of his perfect lips.

"Look at you, wanting this dick so damn bad," he teased as his fingers dug into your scalp, your head completely under his control, face kept inches away from the meat that you craved. "Think you deserve it yet?"

_If only_ , you inwardly sighed _._ No way your dirty mouth could ever deserve the divine glory of Dean Winchester's dick. You knew you had to pray for the honor and privilege of tasting him, to beg and plead down on your knees. "No, sir, I know I'll never be worthy. But I love your cock so much—I just want to worship it, Master, so badly... please..."

"Ugh, you're so fucking pathetic. Begging for my cock like that."

"I know, sir. I'm a pathetic worthless whore, so fucking hungry for your perfect cock."

"Yeah," Dean growled, grinning and licking his lips. "Such a hungry little slut..."

His hand around his dick then dragged upward a bit on the next stroke, angling the tip further away from your panting mouth, then pulling your head closer into his crotch. Your gaze instantly dropped from his face to his nutsack, the skin of it supple and glistening, the sweetest shade of peachy pink, sheathing a pair of heavy balls brimming with heavenly come. The scent of his hot sex was stronger here than anywhere else on his beautiful body. As you took in the enticing sight and smell, a moan escaped your parted lips, drool dripping from your tongue.

"Aw that's it, slave, sniff those sweaty balls," he groaned, biting his lip. "Smells damn good down there, don't it. Wanna taste?"

"Oh fuck yes, Master, your balls are so beautiful... please let me worship them, sir..."

"Go on. Make it good," he demanded, pulling your head in deep so that your face was pressed against his heated flesh, nose at the base of his cock and open mouth mashed up into his nutsack. "Lick my balls, bitch."

You set to work instantly, eagerly, emitting muffled moans of ecstasy around him all the while. Every inch of Dean tasted divine. His salty, savory flavor filled your senses as your tongue massaged the tender, textured skin, salivating slavishly all over him, lips moving in slow suctioning motions to leave slobbery kisses everywhere they landed. Your fingers dug into the muscles of his thighs where you still held on for dear life, loving how the sexy structure of his bowlegs made the perfect space for you to bury your face as you worshiped the balls hanging between them.

Overcome with ever-growing hunger and the urge to serve, you stretched your mouth open wide and slurped one of his balls inside, breathing heavily through your nose as you relished the heavenly mouthful.

"Holy shit. God, yes," Dean grunted above you, throwing his head back for a second before looking back down at your face, whatever little of it wasn't smothered by his sweaty sack. Mostly just your forehead and eyes gazing lovingly up at him the entire time. "Yeah, just like that—keep sucking. Feels so good, you fucking slut."

His own gaze was ablaze with arousal, golden flames flashing in a sea of darkest green, the most stunning color you had ever seen. You couldn't even wrap your mind around just how gorgeous your master was. But you could wrap your mouth around his balls, and that was all that mattered now.

The hand in your hair moved toward your cheek, fingers slipping inside your mouth to pull it open wider, while the hand on his dick dropped down to clutch his other ball. "Think you can take both of 'em, bitch?" he dared as he started to feed it to you, forcing it past your desperately panting lips. "Both of these big balls in your dirty fucking mouth?"

You shuddered in pleasure as you gasped and gagged, struggling to gulp down both at once. With help from his aggressive hands, soon it was done, your gaping mouth sucking hungrily on his entire nutsack, and you honestly weren't sure which of you was enjoying it more. Dean looked so fucking happy. So fucking proud of you. The sounds he was making, the breathless smile on his perfect face as he stared down at you, the way he pushed your hair back from your brow and stroked your cheek to feel his balls throbbing inside, filling you up completely.

Soon the stroking turned to smacking, just as you had hoped. He spat on your forehead while he slapped your bulging cheeks, and you blinked hazily up at him, thanking him silently with your adoring gaze, inhaling loud and deep through your distended nostrils as your suffocated mouth spluttered around his sack, senses flooded with the musky smell and sweet taste of his sweaty crotch.

And then you saw his sexy lips twist into a sadistic smirk, and next thing you knew he was pinching your nose. _Holy fuck_. You literally couldn't breathe. It felt amazing—the feel of his balls filling your entire mouth intensified that much more as your vision blurred, going black around the edges, streaked with stars like angels falling on a field of shadow from a dark and stormy sky.

"Fuck. Fuck yes," you heard Dean groan above you as your mouth spontaneously pooled with drool, spit spilling from the sides as you choked on his delicious balls, gripping his thighs even tighter as your body trembled helplessly beneath him. "That's it, slut. You don't deserve to fucking breathe until you've pleased me."

Had you died then and there, on your knees savoring the flavor of your master, desperate to please him while he cut off your breathing, you would've been perfectly happy.

But no; apparently he still had other uses for you. That made you happy, too.

You instinctively sucked in huge gulps of air as he released your nose and pulled your head away from him a bit, your mouth leaving his balls with a sloppy popping sound that drew a sigh of satisfaction from your master. _Hopefully you had pleased him_ , you silently prayed as you panted before him, staring up into his perfect face.

"Shit. Look at you," he marveled, rubbing one of his palms roughly all over your cheeks and chin, slathered in his spit and your own. "So fucking nasty. You look so pretty like that, slave. Look what you're doing to my cock."

"Ohhh..." all you could manage was an incoherent groan as you beheld his big hard dick, which you could've sworn had grown an inch since last you had laid eyes on it. _And fuck if it hadn't already been_ extremely _big and hard before._..

"Yeah. Making me so fucking hard, you filthy whore," Dean growled, grinning to see you so amazed, enchanted by his massive manhood. "What're we gonna do about that, huh? What're we gonna fucking do."

"I..." you couldn't even form the words to beg to worship him right now.

"Just gonna stare all day?" he taunted, gorgeous grin widening devilishly. "Why don't you put those dirty hands to use and stroke that dick, you little bitch."

"Yes, yes sir," you happily obliged, hands sliding swiftly up his thighs and toward his hips, bracing yourself more steadily upon your knees now that you couldn't grip his legs for balance. And when at last your hands inched toward his cock, you had to stop for a second to revel in the moment, unable to believe that you were finally about to touch the object of your every dream...

But Dean had no patience for that. With a feral snarl, he grabbed one of your hands in his own and brought it to his dick, wrapping his strong fist over yours around his shaft. A yelp of ecstasy escaped your throat at the sudden contact of his turgid meat against your tender palm; you gasped in pleasure as his hand pumped slowly up and down the thick length a few times, your own smaller fist enclosed firmly inside it.

"Just like that, slut. Think you can handle it?"

You nodded, gaping in some sort of trance at the sight of his cock in your hand, continuing the rhythmic motion as your master's grip loosened and then released. Such was his girth that your fingers didn't even touch your thumb as your fist encircled him, you noticed now, breathless at how ridiculously hot that was. _He was so fucking big. So big, so beautiful, so fucking hot you couldn't even handle it..._

"Thought you said you could handle it, bitch," he snickered down at you.

_Oh_ —you had said those words aloud, you realized now. "Yes, Master, I can. I will," you vowed, bringing your other hand to join the first one, so that no inch of his gorgeous girth was left untouched.

"Yeah, that's a good little slave," he groaned, hips beginning to rock back and forth slightly, in sync with your strokes. It became harder for you to focus that way, given how incredibly fluid and sexy each thrust of his was, especially when precome started dripping from the head of his dick onto your fists—but you kept your grasp firmly around his shaft, kept to the task. You'd sooner die than fail to handle him as you had promised.

In the meantime, your mouth was achingly empty, tongue hanging out over your lip, thirsting for any part of him that he would let you taste. You ventured a request—not brave enough to beg for the divine privilege of blowing him, you asked about something that you'd already done before, hoping to heaven and hell that he might say yes. "Sir, may I please kiss your balls while I stroke your big, beautiful cock?"

He looked down at you like the piece of shit you were. "Knew you'd need something in that filthy mouth of yours, you greedy whore," he scolded. "So fucking pathetic. You make me sick."

"I know, sir, I'm so sorry... You're just so beautiful, you taste so fucking good, please let me kiss you, lick you, anywhere you'll let me, anywhere you want me to, Master, please, I just want to worship you," you gushed, biting your lip upon hearing just how pathetic you had sounded, lowering your gaze in shame.

He reached down to wind his fingers in your messy hair, his pink lips lifting into a suggestive smile as he forced your face upward to look at him again. "Yeah, you want that?"

Of course you did. And of course Dean knew it. You had begged to kiss his balls, but Dean knew just what part of him you wanted most, although you hadn't dared to ask.

So he fucking offered. "What about my cock?"

 

 


	5. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It finally happens. You finally get to worship Dean Winchester's beautiful cock. First he smacks you with it, as a punishment, a tease, his precome leaking onto your cheeks. And then he fucks your face, hard, and it's everything you've ever dreamed, but you don't deserve his come yet, so he pulls out of your mouth and bends you over, fucks your ass until you scream. He spanks you, chokes and gags you with his belt, calls you a worthless piece of shit, makes you repeat it, then decides that you can finally take his load. Resumes fucking your throat till he explodes. Mostly in your mouth, some on your face, and you die a thousand times in all the most delicious ways.

_Holy shit. Holy fucking shit._ Was he for serious? Was this truly going to happen? _Would he finally deign to let you suck his dick, even if you could never deserve it...?_  

"You wanna taste this big hard cock, bitch?"

"Oh my god yes, Master, want it so bad..."

His smile broadened, darkened. "Get your hands off, slave," he ordered, shoving your loving hands off of his length before you could even comply. Replacing your hands with one of his own, gripping his big dick firmly by the base, holding it out cruelly in front of your face. "So you think you've earned it? Think you're worthy of this cock?"

You shook your head, felt his strong fingers tighten in your hair. "No, sir, I could never be worthy, your cock is too perfect..."

And then you felt your face suddenly blessed with the sweetest, most divine sensation of your entire sorry life: your master's cock. _Dean Winchester was fucking slapping your face with his cock._ You were discovering new dimensions of heaven every minute of this glorious day.

"Then why..." he growled.

His huge dick landed on your cheek again with a demeaning _thwack_.

"...the fuck..."

 _Thwack_. 

"...you begging for it..."

 _Thwack_. _Thwack_.

"...bitch."

You were pretty sure that you came in the instant that word passed his lips. Without even touching yourself, without anything at all touching your dirty bits. It was as if his words had gone straight to your clit. _Dean was just that good. So damn good_.

"I'm so sorry, sir..." you moaned as he kept punishing your filthy face with his godly gorgeous cock, "...so sorry, I just... I can't help it, I love you so much, want to worship you so bad..."

"I can see that," he sneered. _Thwack._ "Fucking bitch."

"Oh God, Master, that feels so good..." you groaned as you felt a streak of his precome spill onto your face with his next slap. "Thank you..."

Your hands meanwhile had a mind of their own and had wandered down to his balls. You rolled them gently in your eager fingers, cradling and caressing each one like the treasure it was. One of your forefingers then ventured back a bit—absentmindedly, lost in a daze as Dean's dick kept on smacking your face, you stroked your fingertip along the sweaty strip of skin between his nutsack and his ass.

"Oh, _fuuuck_...!" he cried out all of a sudden, a violent spasm coursing through his gorgeous body. Apparently your touch upon his taint had triggered something, set off some sort of fire in his groin that made his knees buckle, his cock twitch where it lay against your cheek.

Whatever it was, it had been good. It had been great. Because next thing you knew, he was grabbing your head so hard as to leave scars on your scalp, holding his cock out in front of your mouth, and uttering the most heavenly words you'd ever heard.

" _Shit_. That's it, bitch," he grunted, not yet recovered from the powerful shockwave of pleasure, green eyes glazed in a euphoric haze. "Gotta fuck your fucking face."

Desperate drivel started spluttering from your pathetic mouth; you were so fucking grateful, so supremely happy. "Oh my God, Master, oh God, fuck, thank you sir, I..."

"Shut up and suck it, slave."

You gaped your mouth open so wide you thought your jaw might break. And then, glory be to all that was good in the universe, Dean Winchester plunged his delicious cock straight down your hungry throat, and every fiber of your being promptly detonated with the force of the apocalypse. Every cell in your body exploding in its own little apocalyptic orgasm. Every single fucking cell. _Holy heavenly hell_.

Thank God some part of your exploded brain could still discern Dean's words, over the din of your internal armageddon, because the words were fucking wonderful.

"Mmmn. Yeah, take that big dick down your dirty fucking throat. Take it nice and deep. You fucking love it, don't you. Such a nasty little slut. Fuck."

You stared up at his beautiful, perfect face while you savored his equally beautiful, perfect cock, your dazed gaze expressing a zealous 'yes' over and over again. Your fluttering lashes expressing just how fucking good he tasted, meaty and manly and salty and sweet, just how much you loved the head of his dick driving into the back of your throat, the feel of your lips pressing into his crotch, nose buried in the beautiful thatch of brown curls at the base of his cock, breathing in the rich musky scent of his sweat, his balls banging into your spit-slathered chin each time he pulled your face toward him, both of his big hands tangling and tugging at your hair while he thrust forcefully in and out of your mouth, using you like the worthless whore you were. It was everything you had ever dreamt and more.

"Suck it good, you filthy slut," your master ordered. "Take it all. Yeah, that's it, you know you love it. Tell me just how much you love my cock."

You tried to say it but were muffled by the very meat you loved. He knew it, of course. Didn't stop fucking your mouth for a second. Snickered down at you while he kept on defiling your pathetic face.

"What's that? Use your words, bitch. Can't hear a thing," he taunted. "Just those sick slurping sounds from your throat full of cock. Fucking whore."

Your vocal cords vibrated desperately around his dick, as if you could possibly manage words through such a mouthful. Juicy gobs of his sweet precome mixed with your spit started overflowing past your lips as his cock pounded into you over and over again. Though your gag reflex was magically gone, his meat was still a lot for you to handle, especially when hammering into your mouth with such merciless vigor, so the blowjob had become extremely slobbery and sloppy by this point.

You cursed yourself for being such a sorry disappointment to your master. Unable to fulfill his command, to tell him just how much you loved this perfect dick deep in your mouth. It didn't matter if the deed was physically impossible. If Dean had so commanded, then it was your duty to obey. And you were failing him. You had never hated yourself more than in this moment. You pretty much didn't deserve to exist.

"Ugh, look at you—too busy swallowing my cock, can't even take an order," he sneered, spitting on your forehead a few times to mess your face up even more. "What kind of sorry excuse for a slave are you anyway... useless piece of shit..."

He pulled your head sideways a bit, still keeping it firmly impaled on his length, but angling it so that the tip of his dick poked against the inside of your cheek. And then he smacked that obscenely bulging cheek, spat on it, smeared his saliva all over the swollen surface, hand smothering your snout and then sliding up into your hair, getting you all slicked up with his spit and the stray streaks of precome that glazed your pathetic face. You moaned and groaned, truly enjoying every second, hoping that you looked prettier for him like this, all slathered in his juices.

If you did, he didn't say so. This was not the time for praise, when you were failing him so miserably.

"Won't tell me how much you love it? Huh?" he growled as he pulled your head back into place to resume full-on fucking your face. "Then show me. Show your master just how much you fucking love this big cock. Show me."

Now _that_ you could do. And you did. Avidly, with all the love and passion that had been pent up inside you since the blessed day you had first laid eyes on Dean Winchester. You opened your throat up as wide as you could to take him in, all the way down, and you serviced him, worshiped him, every muscle and membrane of your mouth and throat massaging his entire length, lips pressed into his sweaty crotch in a prolonged kiss every time he pulled your face toward him and held it there, tongue managing to slip out of your mouth so you could lick his balls when they smashed up against your chin, hands roaming wildly all over the muscular flesh of his thighs and his abs, groping and kneading and wandering down toward his ass, grabbing one cheek in each hand and clutching the glorious globes so tightly that your fingers ached, your unblinking eyes locked on his golden-green gaze while your master kept fucking and fucking and _fucking_ your fucking face.

Dean kept spouting degrading filth at you the whole time, and each word from his beautiful mouth was divine. "Ugh. Oh God, yes. Feels so good, you fucking bitch. Don't stop. Damn, such a dirty slut, you love that cock so much. Worshiping it like the worthless whore you are. Yeah, just like that, slave. Fuck yes."

Hearing those dirty words while his dick slammed your throat got you hotter than you'd thought was humanly possible. You were pretty sure that a puddle had formed on the floor between your legs. Not that your pleasure mattered; all you could think about right now, as you felt the luscious meat upon your tongue grow ever more engorged, was whether Dean Winchester would soon be coming in your mouth.

He read your mind, could see the hunger for his come inside your eyes. "You want my come, bitch? Want me to shoot it down your filthy whore throat? Gonna swallow it all, drink it up like a good little slut?"

Your head bobbed up and down a bit, the best nod that you could manage while he had your whole skull completely under his control.

He smirked down at your dominated, violated face. "Yeah, know you want it bad. So fucking thirsty."

A stifled moan escaped your mouth, so fully stuffed yet so damn hungry, thirsting for his juices, every single precious drop.

"Ugh," he grunted, stimulated by the thrumming of your muffled voice against his throbbing flesh. "Always craving what you don't deserve. Such a greedy slave."

You knew you were, but simply couldn't help it... you just hoped he wasn't too displeased with you...

"You've been a bad little bitch, you know that?" he chided darkly. "You just never learn. You never fucking learn."

And with that, he yanked your head forcibly off of his cock, leaving you gaping at the sudden emptiness and gasping from the shock. Before you could even begin to process what was happening, you felt your master's grip all over your bare skin—he was manhandling you, hauling you up from your knees and dragging you toward a table that happened to be nearby, littered with unused warehouse supplies. These he shoved out of the way with a sweep of his forearm, forcing you up onto your shaky feet and bending you over the edge, pushing your torso facedown into the tabletop and pinning you in place with one hand pressed against the middle of your back. You felt completely at his mercy, even more so in this moment than through everything he'd done to you today.

"Let's see if you'll learn like this, bitch," he hissed as his hand trailed down your spine, skipping over the seared patch of skin at the small of your back— _it still escaped you why he bothered to do that_ —ghosting over the crack of your ass, and then coming down against one of your cherry red cheeks with a loud, stinging smack. Your own hands clenched into fists against the table as you yelped in euphoric pain, the exquisite feeling heightened by your master's words as he spanked your sore ass again and again. "Learn what you're worth. Learn not to ask for what you don't deserve."

"I'm so sorry, Master..." you whimpered.

"You think you're sorry, slave? I'll show you _sorry_ ," he snarled, wasting no time showing you exactly what he meant.

The next thing you felt was a fullness that threatened to rip you in half. An anguished cry escaped your throat as your back spontaneously arched, spine straining against the weight of your master's strong hand still holding you down, and you shut your eyes tight and bit down on your lip, knowing better than to wait for the excruciating pain to pass—Dean Winchester's enormous dick was buried deep inside your ass.

"Yeah, scream for me, you little slut. Ever taken such a big dick up this tight ass of yours?"

"N-no, Master..." you stammered breathlessly, screaming as he thrust his hips brutally back and forth, pulling his cock halfway out of your hole and then plunging back in even harder and deeper.

"Mmm. Hurts like a bitch, don't it. Feel that burn?"

"Yes, I— _ugh_ , I feel it, sir..."

"Learning your lesson now, slave? Finally gonna fucking learn?"

"Yes, sir, I know that I'm a good-for-nothing whore."

"Yeah, that's it," he growled, smacking your ass every few seconds while he fucked it senseless, his other hand snaking into your hair and balling up into a fist to pull your head back like the filthy slut you were. "Say more."

The words came naturally to you. They were so obviously true. "I'm a pathetic bitch and you're a perfect god and I'll never deserve to swallow the sweet come from your beautiful cock."

Apparently Dean liked the sound of that, a lot; he let out a long, satisfied groan, and although your ass was largely numb by now, you could've sworn you felt a spurt of precome gush inside you. "Good slave. Don't ever forget it."

He disengaged his hand from your hair, and you noticed that his other hand had stopped spanking your ass. You then heard the telltale sound of leather slipping over sweaty skin, and in the next instant, his belt was at your mouth, digging into your cheeks as he tugged it back toward him, grabbing the strip of leather in both hands like a bridle, gagging you with it while his huge cock continued impaling your insides.

"Don't ever forget that you're a worthless piece of shit," Dean hissed into your ear, breath hot against your tender skin as he leant into you, yanking you closer toward him, the rippling muscles of his perfect body pressed against your back. "You hear me, slave? Never forget it."

In response to your desperate nod, he slid the belt down from your mouth toward your neck, strangling you with it. He only needed one fist to hold it in place like that—the other hand strayed down toward one of your tits. "Say it."

As his skillful fingers assaulted your nipple, eliciting a blissful groan from you before you spoke, you just barely managed to make out the words through your choking throat. "Yes, Master, I'm a... I'm a worthless piece of shit."

"Mmmm, that's it," he grunted, suddenly releasing you, flinging the belt away; you heard it land on the floor somewhere with a soft slap. He dealt a final hard slap to your ass and then slid his dick swiftly out of your gaping hole, grabbing you by your shuddering shoulders to hoist you off of the table, forcing you back down onto your knees in front of him.

He stared down at your face as you gazed up at him in absolute submission, his gorgeous eyes burning into you so hotly that you feared the heat might kill you on the spot. You hoped not. You couldn't die, not when Dean Winchester was still alive for you to worship every day of your pathetic life... _But seriously_ , you silently thought, _that green glare was unspeakably hot_.

"Yeah," he breathed, tongue flicking out over his plump, perfect lips as he gripped the base of his big, throbbing cock and shoved it down your open throat again. "Now that you know you don't deserve it, I can finally come inside your filthy mouth, bitch."

The loudest moan of pleasure tore through you, at that, resonating around your master's massive length, your hands instantly grabbing his ass as he resumed fucking your face. Not only to massage the firm, beautiful muscles of his butt cheeks, but also to bring his crotch in closer toward your mouth—you never wanted him to pull out, not until you had drunk every drop of his heavenly come.

"Aw yes, taste your own dirty ass on my dick, fucking whore. Eat it. Take it. Make me come. You better make me fucking come."

 _So help you God_ , you knew, _you would make your master come even if it was the last goddamned thing you'd ever do_. _Even if it killed you_.

One of your hands dropped from his ass to his balls, kneading both of them with worshipful fingers, palm pressing up against the turgid flesh. His sack felt so fucking deliciously _full_. You could feel his nuts tightening up, could hear the quickening of his short and shallow breaths, the urgency of those impossibly sexy sounds that he was making, and you knew that he was close.

And you knew just how to push him right over the edge.

It was basically instantaneous. As soon as your forefinger brushed against that sacred spot between his sweet ass and his bulging balls, Dean Winchester exploded in your mouth and you immediately died. And then came back to life in the span of two seconds or so, you supposed, since apparently you were still very much alive and swallowing him down as his cock spurted thick ropes of creamy come down your throat over and over again. You had lost count by now of how many, but that didn't even matter; you were simply so glad to be alive to drink it all. _But you had definitely died_. That was the only way to begin to describe what you had felt in the instant that Dean's delicious come had first flooded your mouth.

He had been saying things while coming down your throat, very loudly, though in the throes of death you hadn't heard the words— _probably just some mix of 'fuck' and 'shit' and 'God' and 'yes'_ , you guessed. But he was saying something now, more urgently; as your senses returned in another two seconds, you realized that it was an order, and that he was violently pulling your hair.

"Get off my dick," he panted, spewing words at a mile a minute. "I want some on your face."

 _Fuck, that was hot._  Of course some of his come should land where he could see it. Marking you as his. You obeyed as soon as you had understood him, letting his huge cock pop out of your mouth, then staring up at him with eyes wide open as he stroked himself over your filthy face, spraying his final few spurts of come onto your forehead and cheeks, allowing you to lap up the last pearly drop from the tip of his dick as it leaked.

Gaze locked on his, you licked your lips, gulped down whatever little come remained inside your mouth, and smiled blissfully up at your beautiful master. "Thank you, sir."

Dean's own smile now was brighter than heaven itself as he beamed down at you; the signature devilish smirk of his seemed to have given way to an angelic boyish grin. "Holy _fuck_ ," he breathed, his perfectly chiseled chest heaving and gleaming with glorious sweat, golden-green gaze evincing that his mind was just as thoroughly blown as his cock had been. "That was.. _._ that was _awesome_ , baby."

You swooned a bit—after 'bitch', the word 'awesome' had always been one of your favorite things to hear off of his lips. So damn cute, and so damn Dean.

But 'baby'? Had he gotten you confused with the Impala for a second there? You blinked stupidly up at him, unable to fathom why he would ever call you that. You dismissed the thought, presuming that you had misheard the word.

Your gaze dropped from his gorgeous face to his mouthwatering cock, which was still throbbing slightly as it softened. You could stare at it all day, in any state. It was so fucking beautiful always.

You wanted to kiss it. _Badly_. But you weren't sure whether he wanted that, and that was all that mattered. What he wanted. Your eyes lifted timidly to look up at him again. "Are you finished with me, Master?"

An inscrutable array of emotions fell across Dean's flawless face. He bit his lip and furrowed his brow, as if about to make some sort of life-changing decision; he looked as if he wanted to say something, something big, but just wasn't sure whether he should say it now.

A heavy silence followed, so deep that you swore you could hear his heart beating.

And then he spoke. "No," he answered simply, smile widening—you weren't sure whether it was brightening or darkening, becoming more boyish or switching back to devilish. You couldn't tell, but either way, it was so infinitely beautiful. As were his words. "Hell, no."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading, leaving kudos and comments!! It makes me obscenely happy to know that people are enjoying this filthy little fantasy. Please do keep the comments coming and I'll keep Dean coming :)


	6. Bathed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ** FYI: If you're not into the idea of Dean pissing all over you, check the Notes to see where you can skip ahead :) **
> 
> Dean finds out that you're fucking obsessed with his piss. He gives you the golden shower that you crave, all over your face and your tits, watching his piss drip down your fingers where you're playing with your clit, and then he finally aims into your mouth and lets you drink it. To thank him for the delicious gift, you kneel in front of him and eat his ass again, pumping his cock while he degrades you with the absolute filthiest dirty talk. He ends up more turned on than he's ever been, and the heavenly words you hear next are too good to be true: Dean Winchester wants to fuck you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those not into watersports, it stops just over halfway through the chapter, so feel free to scroll ahead a bit! Just like with the foot stuff, I get it... I personally am not into piss unless it's from Jensen/Dean's dick. Because then it's fucking glorious golden god-juice (I know, I'm sick).
> 
> To skip the piss stuff, you can ctrl+F "That's a good slut" and start reading from there :)

You released a big breath, which you hadn't been aware of holding. "Oh, thank God. Thank you, sir," you gushed, wasting no time making your next worshipful request. "May I please kiss your cock?"

A low chuckle burst past his perfect lips. Whatever it was that he had been considering saying, if anything, had been set aside to go unsaid for now. "I, uh..."

Your heart broke at his pause, at what you perceived as reluctance. "Only if you want me to, Master..."

"Oh, it's not that I don't want it," he assured you on the instant, smiling at you again and then looking down at his dick. "It's just, um—I... I really gotta take a leak."

"Mmmmm," you hummed loudly, involuntarily, your entire body shuddering in bliss at the thought of Dean Winchester's piss. It always did. You thought of it a lot—how could you not, when you shared motel rooms with this gorgeous god of a man so damn often. So many mornings you had woken up to his alarm, pretended that you were still sleeping as he stomped groggily over to the bathroom to relieve himself of what sounded like gallons of hot piss from overnight, and fuck, it always got you off like dynamite. You hoped that he would never lose his deep affinity for beer. He drank so much of it that he could barely make it through an hour on the road without a break—though he often reminded you and Sam that there'd be blood if either of you mentioned that to anyone—and every time he pulled over, whipped out his dick, and pissed into some roadside shrubbery, you had to fight the burning urge to jump right out of the Impala and fall on your knees in front of him to drink up every drop.

So, that was torture, but you never wanted it to stop. Just like all forms of torture related to Dean. The more he tortured you by being so ridiculously hot, whether intentionally or not, the more you loved him for it, and the more torture you craved, especially because it always made for damn good dreams.

And so many of those dreams had come to life, on this most blessed day. _Were your fantasies about Dean pissing all over you set to come true, too...?_

You blinked silently up at him, still squirming in pleasure at his mention of having to take a leak. He seemed somewhat taken aback by your expression of arousal, but the alarm faded away soon enough; he must have remembered the demon using the word 'toilet' in her descriptions of your various Dean-worshiping desires. And every word of what she'd said had been utterly true, as you both knew.

He bit down hard on his lower lip, the pink flesh extra full when he released it. And the smirk that surfaced on his perfect face now was most definitely devilish.

"You like that, huh?" he whispered hotly as he stared you down, hand rising to his cock, his fist encircling the base and aiming it toward your face. "You want it?"

You panted thirstily, hands spontaneously rising to your breasts, which were just aching with arousal at this point. You rolled your nipples slowly in your fingers, wet and sticky with a coat of sweat and spit, your master's and your own inseparably mixed. "Yes, sir."

"Mmm," he moaned, apparently enjoying watching you like this. "Yeah, tell me what you want, bitch. Tell me while you're playing with those sloppy tits."

You happily obeyed. "I want your piss," you told him. "Wanna feel your piss dripping all over me, Master. Wanna taste it."

"Ughh, that's so fucking hot," he groaned, throwing his head back briefly as he tightened his grip around his dick, then glaring down at you again. "Look at you, so fucking filthy. Covered in my come. Want me to piss on your pathetic face to clean that up?"

"Oh God, yes."

"Yeah," he growled, grabbing your head in his free hand, fingers tangling in your mussed up hair. "Shut your mouth, slave. Gonna soak you in my piss. Don't dare drink it till I say you can, you hear me?"

You promptly sealed your lips, ever desperate to please your master. "Mm-hmm."

"That's right, keep that thirsty mouth shut tight. Don't care how bad you wanna taste it. Keep it shut," he ordered as he poised his cock in position to shower you down. "Gotta get you all cleaned up first, dirty slut."

The tip of his semi-hard dick was pointing straight at your forehead, and you were so fucking excited you could barely breathe.

When he finally released the first hot stream onto your face, with a deep guttural groan that sounded sexier than anything, you had to force yourself to bite your tongue and purse your lips against the urge to open them. You were moaning and sighing so loudly that you knew you couldn't manage for much longer like this with your mouth closed. But you didn't dare violate his demand. Kept on toying with your tits with frantic hands, writhing in torturous pleasure as your master's golden piss gushed from his gorgeous dick and splattered straight onto your worthless face, cascading down your cheeks and dripping from your chin onto your chest and down the rest of you as you gazed up at him, wide eyes silently thanking him for gracing you with such a glorious gift.

_Fuck, there was so much of it._ You were so glad, so grateful, for every bit. You only wished that you could drink it like you'd always wanted. Show Dean just how much you loved him, every beautiful inch of his body and every single drop of fluid that came out of it.

"Shit, you are so damn pathetic. You love it," he marveled as he hosed you down, stopping every so often to spit on your face and smear his piss and spit all over it, then aiming his cock a bit lower to shoot at your chest. "Get those hands off, bitch. I'm gonna soak your fucking tits."

The feel of his steamy piss landing directly on your breasts, splashing over your stiffened nipples, spilling down your cleavage, filled you with the need to scream. You kept your mouth clamped tight, afraid that he'd stop pissing on you if you failed to obey him just right. The puddle on the floor beneath you was expanding every second, the pool of your own pussy juice from all this time kneeling before your master getting flooded with the hot flow of his piss.

He sneered down at your trembling body, your filthy skin glistening in his godly golden spray. "Look at you, all soaking wet. Bathing in my piss. Makes your pussy drip, doesn't it."

You nodded breathlessly.

"Mmm. Why don't you touch yourself, you fucking slut," he ordered. "Wanna see you squirming like a cheap whore while I shower you with piss. Yeah, that's it, play with your clit."

You did as told, though you derived infinitely more fulfillment from serving and pleasuring your master than from playing with yourself. But still, it did feel undeniably good, even if the contact was just with your own good-for-nothing fingers.

Now what _really_ felt good was when rivulets of Dean's piss dribbled down over your wrist and got you wet down there with not only your own worthless juices, but also with his wondrous fluids washing over you. Your hips started bucking wildly, your master's grip digging into your scalp to hold your head up by his crotch, keep you steady enough to be poised for the next shot of piss which he aimed at your face.

"Wanna say something, slave?" he taunted in reply to the stifled sighs rippling through you. "Feels so damn good you wanna scream? You wanna cry?"

His grasp on your head was so firm now that you couldn't make yourself nod, couldn't so much as try.

Dean snickered at the sight of you so helpless and stopped pissing for a second, slapping your slobbery cheek with his thick, throbbing cock. _Thwack_. The sound was even slicker, even sexier now that your face was all soaked from his sweet golden shower.

He then ran the tip of his juicy dick over your tightly pursed lips. "Now I'm gonna tell you to open your mouth, but I don't wanna hear you make a fucking sound," he growled. "Just swallow my piss like a good little bitch. Drink it all down. Got it?"

His fist in your hair loosened a bit so that you could manage a nod now.

"Mmm, that's it. Just sit there and take it. You ready, slut?"

You nodded again.

His cock pushed harder up against the entrance of your mouth, still firmly shut. "Now open up."

Your jaw immediately dropped, tongue hanging out over your lower lip, then wriggling in bliss as it was finally blessed with the heavenly gift of Dean Winchester's piss. _Holy fucking shit_. The feel of it, the taste of it, spurting straight into your hungry mouth, flooding it in a matter of seconds...

"Swallow," he commanded, as you apparently were too incapacitated with ecstasy to remember his instructions.

You silently thanked him for the reminder as your throat contracted in an eager gulp, struggling to keep it as noiseless as possible, as per your master's orders, making sure to keep your mouth wide open to continue to receive the ceaseless stream.

"Good slave," he uttered in degrading praise, absolute music to your ears, staring you down as he filled up your filthy mouth with his delicious piss. "Every drop. Wash down all that come you took deep in your dirty throat. That's it, don't stop. Don't fucking stop."

You swallowed hard again and again, drinking him in, cherishing each and every drop, yourself hoping that it would never stop. And as the flow slowly subsided to a trickle, you were sad, so fucking sad. Even Dean Winchester had limits. Couldn't keep pissing in your mouth forever, no matter how badly you both might've wanted it.

You drank up the last serving of his piss that had pooled up inside your throat and then gazed silently up at his gorgeous face in groveling gratitude. He smacked the head of his cock softly on your lolling tongue, so that the last few drops that clung onto his flesh landed on yours, letting you lap them up. As you licked slavishly all over the tip of his dick, you noticed how much bigger and harder he had gotten since he'd started pissing on you. You dared to hope that he might want to fuck your face again at some point, maybe feed you more of his sweet, creamy come...

"Ugh, fuck," he groaned as he pulled your face slowly off of his cock, running his thumb along your dripping lower lip. "You like that, bitch? You like drinking my piss?"

You bobbed your head in an enthusiastic nod, beaming blissfully up at him, still absentmindedly playing with your clit.

"Say it."

"Yes, Master, I love it. Love drinking it all like a good little bitch. Looking up at your beautiful face while I swallow your piss. It's so fucking delicious."

"Mmmmn," he growled, green eyes ablaze and aroused at your worshipful words, thumb leaving your mouth, hand pulling away from your face just an inch before coming down on your cheek in a sharp little slap. "Yeah, you love it. Look so pretty like that, whore. Soaked in my piss. I cleaned you up real nice, huh?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"That's a good slut," Dean breathed as he pulled your face close to his crotch, pressing your brow into the skin by the base of his cock, the whole area sprinkled with precious freckles, partly hidden by his sweaty pubes, which you couldn't blame for blocking the view since they were so fucking adorable, too. So damn sexy.

Your snout brushed up against his balls as he held your head so close to him; you inhaled a deep breath, shuddering visibly as you relished his dizzying scent. Your hands rose from your clit to snake up his strong thighs, reaching around to grab his firmly bulging buttocks, eager fingers groping every meaty inch of muscle, breath coming in euphoric moans and sighs.

"Fuck. Looks like you wanna get dirty again, don't you, slut," he whispered devilishly, egged on by the whorish whimper that you let out in reply. "That what you want? After I got you all cleaned up, still haven't had enough?"

"I just want to worship you, Master. Forever," you murmured as you kept on massaging his muscular butt cheeks while sniffing his hot, sweaty balls.

"Mmmn," he hummed, evidently enjoying your adoring hands all over him. Where the base of his cock touched your temple as you buried your face in his crotch, you could feel the turgid hunk of meat grow ever thicker, stiffer. "You like that ass, bitch?"

"Yes sir, I fucking love your ass."

"Filthy whore. Tell me what you love about my ass."

"Everything, Master," you effused as you felt Dean's dominating fingers twine more tightly in your hair, hands gripping your head like he owned it completely. Which he did. "It's so beautiful. Smells so good, tastes even better."

"Yeah? You like eating your master's ass, slave?"

"Yes, Master, love shoving my pathetic tongue so deep inside your perfect asshole."

" _Shit_ ," he grunted, body tensing up in pleasure at your shameless words, filled with a sudden urge to act upon them. He shifted, taking a few steps back until his body hit the ledge of the table behind him, leaning against it and scooting back a bit, dragging you by the hair along with him, grip never once loosening as he settled into place, holding your head close by his crotch the whole damn time.

You gaped at the view laid before you as Dean spread his legs, the sweet pink pucker of his asshole winking at you from between his sweaty cheeks, balls bulging lusciously above it, the godly vision of his groin crowned with the tall, majestic column of his cock. Truly the most beauteous sight you had ever beheld in your life. You were utterly and absolutely hypnotized.

"Don't just fucking stare," he taunted as his knuckles tangled roughly in your hair. "Get your face in there, you dirty little bitch."

Your trance instantly broken at the hot sound of his husky voice, you dove headfirst into the crack of Dean's ass, hungry tongue crashing against his hole and worming its way deep inside, savoring the fucking scrumptious flavor for a second time. _How the hell had you gotten so lucky_.

It was even better this time around, as you were able to gaze up into your master's gorgeous face while you worshiped his wondrous asshole with your worthless mouth. You moaned in subjugated bliss as he hiked up one of his sculpted legs, lifting his foot off of the floor to step on your shoulder instead. He jerked himself off vigorously as you ate him out with insatiable passion, his burning green eyes locked on yours all the while, keeping one hand firmly knotted in your filthy hair, breathing hard and heavy while licking his lips and calling you a good-for-nothing bitch.

Your desperate hands had been cupping his cheeks, thumbs pressing into the taut flesh around his hole to spread it wider so that you could taste his darkest, dirtiest depths. Now that your prying tongue was buried as deep in his sphincter as physically possible—or probably even deeper, honestly—you brought your hands up from his butt crack to his balls, cradling and massaging the full, sweaty sack. While you did, you used one of your thumbs to stroke his taint, the secret spot that never failed to bring your master boundless pleasure, the sacred strip of soft pink skin, tender and sweet, throbbing with stimulated heat.

" _Fuck_ , fuck yes, that's it bitch, right there. Right fucking there. Ugh, holy shit," Dean babbled breathlessly as his perfect body trembled at your touch, shaken with spasms of seismic force, violent and vehement, every muscle of his quickened flesh quaking and quivering, his balls tightening in your worshipful grasp as his hole tightened around your dirty tongue deep in his ass.

"Oh my God, Master, you're so beautiful," you couldn't help but marvel, slipping your tongue halfway out of his delicious shithole just to sing his praises, breathing words between wet kisses all across his gorgeous ass as you gazed in awe upon the godly glory of his flawless face and body. "You are perfect. I love you. I love you so much."

"Fuuuuck," he groaned, and you could tell that it was taking every ounce of his restraint to keep himself from coming as you kept stroking his taint, gushing on and on about how beautiful and beloved he was while you salivated slavishly all over his sinfully sexy ass.

You wondered why he bothered forcing himself not to come just yet. Maybe he didn't want to explode into your hair while your face was buried in his butt like this. Maybe he had other plans for unleashing his heavenly load. _In your mouth again? On your face? Somewhere else?_ Every possibility that crossed your mind got you all soaking wet. More so than you already were, as unfathomable as that was, which made you feel like you were drowning from the inside out or something supernatural like that.

"Stroke my cock, slave," he breathed out, his head falling back in a gratified mix of relief and excitement as your hand left his sensitive taint to wrap both fists around his massive shaft, to dutifully obey. "Yeah, that's it. Pump that dick while you're sucking my ass. Fuck yes."

Dean's hot sphincter clenched and contracted all over your voracious lips and tongue as you slurped hungrily on his sweaty hole, handling his huge cock in long, rhythmic strokes, smothering your snout in his nutsack to relish your master's incredible scent while you serviced him.

"You are such a pathetic, worthless, filthy piece of shit," he panted, literally reading your mind, the exact words that you wanted to hear in this moment, and always. You got off on your master reminding you just how inferior you were to him, in all ways. You could listen to him spewing shit like this for days. "Good-for-nothing dirty whore. Yeah, that's it. Eat my shithole, slave. That's all you're good for. Fuck, you love it. Nasty little slut. Ugh, God, you're such a fucking _bitch_."

Dean pulled your head in closer to his ass and pressed the sole of his foot harder down onto your shoulder, degrading and abusing you with words and actions both, and it felt so damn good that you just _had_ to thank him somehow. You couldn't manage speech, with your mouth mashed up into his asshole so deep; so you decided to give him a kiss on that sweet, special spot to show him just how grateful and happy you were. You inched your lips up from his hole and planted a slobbery, passionate kiss on his taint, dumbly ignoring the dangerous effects that such a kiss might have on him.

His beautiful body convulsed, and you felt both your hands on his dick instantly drenched in precome. _At least you thought that it was precome..._

" _Shit!_ " he exclaimed, yanking your head off of his crotch and suddenly shifting position, reaching down to grab you by your shoulders, hoisting you up onto your feet, glaring at you with a rage so intense that you feared it might rip you to shreds. _Which would be sad, because you weren't sure whether you could worship him if you were shredded._ You didn't like to think about that, so you forced yourself to meet your master's fierce gaze as he furiously scolded you. "Don't you know what that does to me, bitch?"

"Y-yes, Master, I do..." you yelped as he leant back against the tabletop in one swift jerking motion, his body weight propped on one elbow while his other hand was still twined in your hair, pulling you downward with him, your torso bent over the table so that his rigid cock rubbed up against the soft skin of your stomach, your pathetic head hovering painfully close to his perfect face. "I'm so sorry, sir—I just... I..."

"Enough of your sad fucking _sorry's_ ," he rasped, bringing his mouth up to your neck and biting it, hard, his big dick stiffening in response to your whimper of pleasured pain, lips wandering lower toward your collarbone and chest, sucking and biting at your supple flesh over and over again. "I don't want your _sorry's_. Don't want cheap words from a worthless whore."

"Mmmn..." you hummed, shutting your mouth against the instinct to apologize again, loving the wet, hot feel of your master's amazing lips and tongue and teeth upon your tender skin.

"That's not what I want, slut," Dean growled before clamping his mouth over one of your nipples, making you moan and arch your back, feeding him your breast, pressing your abdomen more firmly up against his straining shaft, the head of his cock dribbling precome all over the place, making such a big beautiful mess.

"Wh-what do you want, sir?" you sighed desperately, ready as ever to give him anything and everything that he desired, aching for nothing but to service and to please your perfect master.

He stopped sucking your tits to stare into your face, turning your every cell to jelly on the instant with his raging, ravishing gaze. And the words that he spoke next, you knew, would surely ring on repeat in your ears for fucking days.

"I wanna fuck you," Dean Winchester declared, his gorgeous green glare ravaging your soul in unimaginable ways. "I wanna fuck the shit out of you, slave."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much again for your kudos and comments!! Just two chapters left... Hope you're excited for what's coming next :)


	7. Blessed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wants to be inside you. When his huge cock is finally pounding into your dripping wet cunt, you lose yourself in each heavenly thrust, worshipful hands and lips making love to every perfect inch of his body as you take him in. The sex seems sweet and beautiful and gentle for a minute. But then, enamored as you are with Dean's scent and the taste of his sweat, you start sniffing and licking his pits, and the dynamic snaps right back to rough and dirty in an instant. He chokes you, smacks you, and explodes deep inside you, as you come undone over and over again.

You found that you couldn't breathe, let alone speak. You sure as hell would've collapsed to the floor in a heap were it not for Dean's strong, chiseled body supporting your weight, fingers still knotted in your hair to keep your face right where he wanted it, looking at him straight.

The gorgeous green sea of his gaze deepened, darkened. "I've wanted to fuck you from the second I first saw you."

_Oh holy Mother of what the fucking fuck?!?_ This could not be real life... _but it sure as fuck_ felt _real_ , what with your master's big hard length bulging against you, fragrant breath fanning your face with every word that passed his luscious, lusty lips.

"You feel that, bitch?" he whispered as he bucked his hips, the slightest bit, dick sliding over your skin, slick with his precome, bigger and harder than it'd ever been. "That's what you do to me. That's what happens to my cock when I think about fucking you. You make me so damn hard, you dirty little whore."

Dean's words right now were more than you had ever dreamt before; your jaw had dropped to somewhere on the floor. He fixed that by bringing his hand to your jawbone, smiling scandalously at the sight of you so utterly aroused, cupping your chin, sliding his thumb in a slow sweep along your spit-glossed lower lip.

"You like that?" he teased as he rolled his groin rhythmically over your belly again and again. "Want this big dick deep inside you? In that tight wet cunt of yours?"

Some sort of smutty sound escaped your speechless throat.

"Yeah. Yeah, know you do," Dean sighed through a devilish smirk, tip of his thumb tracing the tip of your slippery, slavering tongue. "All soaking wet just begging for your master, aren't you."

You let out the same sort of sound, even smuttier now.

"Mmm. Gonna drive this rock hard cock into your dripping pussy, bitch," he whispered, thumb moving in sync with his words, driving forcibly past your parted lips. "You want it?"

Your open mouth sucked in his probing finger, drooling as ever at the feel and the taste of his skin, moaning desperately around him.

"Fuck. Get up here, slut," he growled, pulling his thumb out and shifting his body weight off of his elbow, freeing both of his big arms to seize your trembling torso in his firm grasp, fingers digging fiercely into your sides, sturdy hands gripping hard as he hauled you up onto the tabletop, scooting a bit further back and then reclining fully on the rough wood surface. "Come on. Sit on my cock."

"Ohhh..." you sighed at the sound of his mind-blowing words, at the feel of his hands sliding down to your hips as he slowly positioned you over his dick.

You shuddered, soaking in the shared heat radiating in the sacred space between your sex and his. Dean brought one of his hands down to his shaft, angling it till the tip was aligned perfectly with your slit, and it was all that you could do to keep from fainting as all of the stars in your universe fell into perfect alignment along with it.

"I wanna be inside you," he breathed, and you died for the billionth time on this blessed day. "All the way inside you, baby. All the way."

Your mind was so gone by this point that you hadn't even noticed what he'd called you. Especially since all the while Dean's dazzling eyes were locked on yours, fringed with those impossibly long, lustrous lashes, each one so deeply beloved, drowning you in those glorious depths of golden-green, the color that suffused your every dream. Somewhere deep inside itself, your soul let out a soundless scream.

You felt the world fall silent, still, around the two of you in the infinite moment just before he entered, thrusting up as you came down, instantly shattering your body and your soul, tearing you in half as he made you whole.

He was in all the way before either of you could even blink, his thick length sheathed entirely inside you, his hand leaving the base of his cock as he buried himself to the hilt, his thumb inching up to your clit, brushing against it with a soft flick as he filled you to the core, his flesh drawn ever deeper into yours as if by gravity, by fate itself and all the forces of the world.

Words rose to your lips of their own accord. "I love you, sir."

He bit his lip, hard. Then released it, possibly to say something—but you pressed on before he could, powerless against the stream of words that steadily poured forth.

"I love you. I love you so much, Master," you panted as you felt him move in you, a gentle surge at first, the pace and the strength picking up soon enough as your body responded to his, as swiftly and powerfully as a storm coming to sea, riding ever-rising waves of pleasure seamlessly together, rocking instinctively in sync with every word that passed your lips. "I would do anything for you. You're everything I've ever loved and ever wanted. You are so beautiful. So perfect. From the inside out, the outside in. I love you, Dean Winchester. I love you. Forever. I do."

You could've sworn that you had felt his length suddenly swell even larger inside you when you breathed his name. But you could easily have just imagined it, given that currently your core was being carried on a ceaseless swell of ecstasy, constantly cresting tidal waves that never stopped, just came and came and came.

The both of your hands had since started wandering wildly, aimlessly over every inch of each other's skin—Dean's framing your hips and then gripping your thighs, roaming up to your belly before reaching around to grab you from behind, cupping your cheeks as they bounced with each thrust he drove into you, every time blowing your mind, his fingers trailing up your spine, palms pressing on your back to pull you lower into him, your bodies brought closer, your breath intertwined.

In the meantime your worshipful hands caressed every last treasure of Dean they could find—tracing the chiseled ridges of his abs, loving fingers lingering on each ripple of muscle, every flawless line, sweeping over the beautiful dip of his navel, sliding up to his chest, rising and falling like the tide to the beat of the warrior's heart caged inside, sculpted like a breathing statue, like a living god, in every way divine.

You had been effusing praise and adoration the entire time. When Dean drew you in closer to him, your words were muffled by his dewy skin as you leant in to litter it with kisses, lips making sweet love to his luscious body everywhere they landed. You slobbered all over his pecs, sucked and nibbled his perfectly perky nipples—which you had always so admired whenever he wore one of his fitted tees and happened to get cold or wet—licking up every scrumptious drop of sweat, running your tongue along the hollow of his throat and inching up to kiss his neck.

The noises he was making were so beautiful. So fucking beautiful. _Too beautiful?_ They somehow seemed softer, less masterful than usual... The thought crossed your mind briefly as your mouth worshiped one of his muscular shoulders, then wandered down to the unbelievable bulge of his bicep. _Damn, he tasted good. And smelled so good, especially in this vicinity_ , you mused as you relished his scent, daring to use your hands to reposition his arm a bit, moaning in arousal at the sight of his armpit. Without a moment's pause, you dove in and buried your face in it.

"Oh _fuck_ ," Dean grunted, his huge dick immediately starting to pump into you more roughly, the dominant growl in his deep voice restored, as your dirty deed reminded him just what a whore you were. "Fuck yes. God, you're such a filthy little bitch."

You groaned in bliss, both from his words—the degradation that you'd missed, in these past several minutes since he'd last spoken like this—and even more so from the smell that filled your senses as you slurped the sexy patch of skin under his arm.

"Yeah," he sighed, apparently liking the feel of your wet, hungry tongue laving all over one of the dirtiest parts of his body. _God knew you'd already been places much dirtier anyway._ "You like that, slut? Like sniffing up your master's sweat?"

"Mm-hmm," you hummed as you slavishly smothered your snout in his armpit, your lips worshiping each adorable damp, scraggly hair nestled there, savoring the sinful cradle of Dean's manly, musky essence, nose burrowing deep into every groove and curve in hopes of smelling even more of him. "Yes, sir. So delicious. I love it."

"Shit. You are so fucking nasty. Here, service this one too, whore," he commanded, reaching to wind his fingers in your hair and drag your head forcefully over to the other side of his body, lifting up his arm and pushing your face in there where it belonged. "Yeah, that's it. Lick up both of my pits. Pathetic little bitch."

"Thank you, sir," you murmured as you tasted every salty, savory inch, puckering your lips into worshipful kisses all over his armpit to show him how grateful you were. "You are so sexy, so fucking beautiful. I love you so much. Thank you."

"Thank you for what, you fucking slut?"

"For..." you paused with a mouthful of his sweaty, feathery curls, unsure just how to put your overflowing gratitude into words. "For everything, Master..."

His hand still tightly gripping your head, he now yanked it away from his armpit to make you meet his gaze, speaking in a gruff snarl that sent chills down your spine and put your mind into a shameful, sorry haze. "That's not good enough, slave."

The next few seconds were a whirling blur as Dean suddenly sprang from the table with feral force, pinning you to the floor, beneath the full length of his perfect body, his flawless face hovering over yours, throbbing cock still buried deep in your core.

"Let's try that again, whore," he demanded as he dealt a sharp smack to your cheek, spitting on it and then hitting it again. "Thank you for what?"

Your breath came in panting spurts, panicking at the deplorable thought of displeasing Dean Winchester. _You couldn't, simply couldn't._ You would truly sooner die than fail your master. "Thank you for... thank you for fucking me, sir."

"That's better," he growled, his words flooding you with momentary relief before another slap came down against your spit-streaked cheek.

_Did he want to hear more?_ You had endlessly more to say. It was worth a try, anyway. "Thank you for fucking my worthless pussy with your perfect cock, sir."

"Mmmn, much better," he groaned with a gratified roll of his hips. "But you're still a good-for-nothing piece of shit."

"Yes, Master, I know it."

"Yeah. Look at you. Covered in my come and piss, my sweat and spit," Dean sneered as he smacked and spat on your filthy face again, sliding his other hand over your tits, toward your neck, then encircling it in a firm, strangling grip. "You fucking love it. Don't you. Don't you, bitch."

You could barely breathe through his chokehold now, let alone speak. "Y-yes, sir, I..."

"Love tasting every inch of me, don't you. Serving and worshiping me like the pathetic slave you are."

" _Fuck_ , yes, I—ugh, f-fuck..."

"That's all you're worth, isn't it, whore," he teased as he tightened his grip on your throat, using his other hand to smear his sweet juices all over your face and slap it a few times more. "Tell me. Is that what you live for?"

You tried to nod, to speak, but couldn't manage anything. Not from the neck up, at least. You hoped that maybe your body could give him the answer he wanted: a wholehearted _yes_ expressed by every inch of your flesh convulsing in sheer bliss beneath him and around him as his massive dick continued slamming mercilessly into you.

"Is that what you live for?" he whispered again, mouth lowered closer toward your ear to hiss the words straight into it.

Still speechless, breathless, powerless to reply, you bucked your hips even more passionately into your master's, taking him ever deeper inside.

His soft, sexy lips brushed the lobe of your ear as he spoke. The same words, the same torture, making you want him, love him even more. "Is that what you live for?"

Stars started to flash at the darkening edge of your vision as the hand at your throat clamped down tighter and tighter. As Dean plunged his cock into you deeper and deeper. Faster. Harder. So much harder. The stars you were seeing now started to fall, bright against a blackening backdrop in a burning, blinding downpour, as he lifted his beauteous face to hover inches over yours, hot breath flooding your strangled senses as it carried his excruciating words. "Is this what you live for?"

_Yes, sir_ , your dazed gaze silently replied as he recklessly dominated, decimated your insides. You lived for this and only this, and would be happy if you died, with Dean inside you, here and now, if that was what he wanted. Anything and everything he wanted. Always. _Always_. _Yes_.

In the very second that your consciousness was on the verge of fading, you felt his hand slipping swiftly away from your neck, letting your lungs gasp in gusts of cool air and his sweet, balmy breath, one word leaping off of your lips with each sigh you expired, the answer you'd ached for so long to express. "Yes."

Dean was cupping your face in his hands, palms pressed up close against your filthy cheeks. In his presence like this, you were of course filled with the urge to be abused, degraded, punished. You wanted him to slap you. Hit you hard till you saw stars, again. He was so fucking beautiful, glorious green glare hotter and darker than ever, his perfect lips parted and panting with passion, so painfully close to yours. Those sweet, beloved lips that you could never hope to kiss. You knew you weren't worth it. Wouldn't even dare to dream of such a gift. He was so perfect, such a god, and you were desperately in love with him and it was so pathetic. You just wanted him to smack you. Fucking smack you.

When he did, reading your mind, the sharp little sting of it felt so divine that the colossal wave you had been riding instantly and violently came crashing down around you, your heart pounding out of your chest as you released a cry that reached beyond the sky, soul and body struck with an atomic bomb that blew you to pieces and brought you to life at the same time. And before you'd come down from the high, you felt something deep in your core that made you soar to new heights all over again, because _fuck_ if that wasn't Dean Winchester coming inside of you. Fuck if that wasn't his come pouring into your pulsating pussy, thick and hot, fluidly spilling all over your slick folds and filling you so deeply, so completely, through and through. You promptly lost whatever little hold you'd had upon reality as everything you'd ever dreamt came true.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed that :) Just one chapter left! Chapter 8 will be mostly gentle sex and sweet fluff, because Dean and his bitch deserve some love. 
> 
> That's supposed to be the end of it — BUT lately I've been feeling super inspired to write an epilogue to post as Chapter 9... This would just be one extra chapter, set a few years later, in which Dean turns into a demon. So, naturally, it would be smut-heavy. And very dark and twisted and kinky. (As if these first seven chapters haven't been, haha... but seriously. It would be ridiculously sinfully dirty. The Demon Dean that I'm imagining wants to violate his bitch in every possible way because he literally has no limits.)
> 
> So please let me know if any of you would be brave enough and shameless enough to want to read something like that, and I just might post it ;) Thanks so much again as always for your kudos and comments! <3


	8. Beloved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All fucked out, you fear that Dean may now be done with you. But that couldn't be farther from the truth. With his dick still deep inside you, he starts kissing you softly, sweetly, calling you baby, and then he declares the unthinkable: that he's in love with you. You're overcome with disbelief, so he'll just have to prove it. Thankfully, no matter how much Dean may love you, turns out that love won't stop him from indulging in the dirty sex you crave and calling you just what you want him to...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the fluff! I really enjoyed writing all this sweet stuff, even though I'm such a dirty little Deanslut, because deep down I feel like Dean deserves to give and to receive the purest love. So I hope you don't mind that this last chapter is less filthy than the others... for what it's worth, the ending does flip back to dirty again ;)
> 
> Also, see the Notes at the end for more about the epilogue that I mentioned :)

When you came to, the love of your life was still thankfully on top of you, both of you utterly spent, soaked in each other's sweat, skin clinging and cleaving close together everywhere your bodies met. Both breathing as if every breath was the first and the last. It had gone dark outside— _how many hours had passed? Days? Years?_ You didn't know; you didn't care. The world beyond these walls, whatever world there was, could not have mattered less. Dean was your world. Dean Winchester was your entire fucking universe. He meant everything to you, and now he knew it, and had fucked you like you didn't mean a thing to him, and the savage sex had ravaged you in all the ways you'd wanted, sated all your hungers, slaked your every thirst.

Now he was all fucked out, it seemed. Which had to be a first. He was a sex god, after all. And yet he felt so human in this moment. So downright divinely human. Every muscle in his gorgeous body was loose as he lay collapsed on top of you, practically suffocating you beneath the full weight of his frame, his shaft still buried deep inside you, sensitive and soft. That beautiful, beloved cock. You wanted so badly to cradle it in your adoring hands, bring it up to your worshipful lips, kiss every inch, show him how much you loved him all over again.

But you didn't dare to ask, with him like this, so clearly spent and drained of every drop of come. He was so done. Had used you up and now was probably set to throw you out, just like the filthy trash you were; he'd probably never want your worthless mouth to touch his cock after today. You prayed to all that was holy, and to all that was unholy, that he'd someday deign to let you worship him again. You would never be done worshiping him. But if Dean was done with you—for now at least, if not forever—then you'd have to be done, too.

Your face was buried in the crook of his neck, parted lips resting right where his broad shoulder met his firm pec. Near the tattoo meant to protect him from the same breed of demon that had taken you. You shuddered at the memory of having been the puppet of that fucking bitch...

And yet you realized now that you had her to thank, for all of this. For spilling all your secrets, all your fantasies, for you and Dean to bring your wildest dreams to life. You sure as hell would never have divulged them all yourself. And you sure as heaven were glad that she had.

Your lips lifted into a smile at the thought; the movement of your mouth against his chest, ever so slight though it had been, caused Dean to shift above you. You fought the urge to wrap your arms around him tight, beg him to stay on top of you, inside you, never leave you...

_But was he even leaving?_ Not yet, apparently, you realized in a huge rush of relief. He had only shifted a bit, so that his perfect face was hovering inches over yours—closer than it had ever been, even through all that had gone down today. He'd never brought his flawless face down so close to your level, never stooped so low. _Rightly so._ He was a god, and you a whore; you were nothing, while he was everything and more; it was blasphemy, for his lips to be so nearly brushing yours. Your lips sticky and wet with his come and his sweat and all manner of filth that would've been unholy had it not come out of his own sacred body. You were his slave; your face had no place so close to the blinding beauty of your master's. _What was he thinking? What was he doing?_

His face inched ever closer, murmured words falling softly from his perfect lips into your panting mouth. "Ask me what I live for."

You weren't sure how you managed to speak; your words came in a whimper. "Yes, Master?"

Hands still framing your face, he slid one of this thumbs along your trembling lower lip and spoke again. "For this," he whispered, thumb sweeping past the corner of your mouth right before he leant in low and pressed his lips to yours, in a kiss that sealed the loss of any semblance of your sanity, briefly pulling away barely an inch to say more. "For the love of a whore."

The next few minutes—hours, days, whatever—were beyond a blur. Dean's impossibly full lips caressing yours, as warm and sweet as apple fucking pie, his soft, delicious tongue tracing the entrance to your mouth before slipping inside, sliding and gliding as smoothly and swiftly as his 1967 ride... it was all far too much for you to fathom, and you lost count of how many times you'd died.

You hadn't the slightest clue why he was doing this. _Maybe he just wanted to taste his own glorious flavor_ , you mused; heaven knew your filthy mouth was full of it. But that didn't strike you as Dean's kind of thing.

Whatever the reason, you relished every second, lapping and sucking lovingly at his beautiful lips, swirling your tongue hungrily around his, making sure that no inch of his luscious mouth would go untouched, untasted.

When his lips finally pulled softly off of yours, you had to bite your tongue against the urge to beg for more. The breath from his lungs had become your fucking oxygen. You weren't sure whether you could function now on any other source of air.

But then you realized that those lips still hadn't left your skin—that Dean was dropping tender kisses all across your face, your nose and cheeks and chin, and all was well with all the world again. You knew that it was wrong, for your perfect master to be treating his pathetic slave anything other than roughly and ruthlessly. But apparently this was what he wanted to do. And that made it right. That meant you were allowed to want it, too.

Quiet sighs passed your quivering lips with each heavenly kiss. Your arousal was building, intensely and inexorably, and where his shaft was still sheathed to the hilt in your core, you felt it start to stiffen and stir. Then one of his hands wandered down to your breast, palming the sensitive flesh in a gentle caress, and words rose to your lips, summoned by the supernatural magic of his touch. "Oh fuck, Dean, I love you so much..."

Before you could panic about having spoken his sacred name, beg forgiveness from your master for having failed to address him with all due respect, he responded. Brought his mouth back toward yours, though not yet making contact, hovering above your lips so that your gazes were aligned, looking you in the eye as he uttered his unthinkable reply. Words beyond anything you'd ever dared to hope for.

"I love you more."

_Holy hell, no_ _—there was no way he'd really said that, let alone meant it. No fucking way. There was no universe in which Dean Winchester could ever possibly love you._ Such was your disbelief that your train of thought derailed and tumbled straight off of your tongue. "No, oh my God, sir, no, you can't..."

"Oh, yes I can, baby. Always have," he murmured, proceeding to shut you up softly by pressing his lips into yours, stopping your tongue with a series of strokes from his own. Pulling away only once he could tell that you would be too breathless from his kisses to continue to object. "It's true. No matter what you make me say or do."

You gaped up at his godly face. "Make you...?"

Dean's kiss-swollen lips shifted into a bit of a smirk, one of his brows lifting in a suggestive little jerk. "You're the one who likes it dirty."

_True; but everything you'd done had been to please him. Had it even pleased him?_ You shuddered at the horrifying thought that he might not have liked it. _He had sure seemed to._.. Once again, your shameful train of thought came out aloud. "Don't you like it, too...?"

"Fuck yeah. It's awesome," he instantly reassured you, sliding his tongue over your gasping lips before dipping down lower to nip at your neck, whispering words through the love bites that he landed all across your tender skin. "But you know you made me. You begged for it, baby."

You still couldn't begin to comprehend that this was happening. "I..."

"So glad you did, though. Was that good for you? Having no idea just how damn much you mean to me?" he asked as he left lingering kisses all across your jawline, down your throat. _The throat that he'd fucked rough and raw not so long ago_. Yet there was nothing rough, nothing raw, about what he was doing now. "No clue how I really feel about you? Did that make it feel more real?"

_Yes, of course._ Every ounce of you had believed every single degrading word out of his mouth. Hell, you were still mostly convinced that you were nothing but a bitch to him. No matter how ardently his mouth was striving now to show you otherwise.

"Did it, baby?"

You were never going to get used to this 'baby' thing. You were nowhere near as valuable as the Impala. But baby or not, you still had to reply. "Y-yes, sir, it did."

He let out a muffled chuckle at the 'sir' address. "Knew it would. Thought I could do you a solid, just for the first time. But it sure as hell won't ever happen again."

You froze at the harrowing string of words— _won't ever happen again? Did he mean..._ You gulped deeply. "You mean..."

"I mean," he breathed, both hands on your breasts now, kneading and massaging as if your pleasure was remotely worth caring about, "that every time I treat you dirty, just the way you want, from now on..."

Dean began gently rocking his hips into yours, as his length slowly grew ever larger and harder inside you.

"... you will always know, deep down..." he murmured, hands squeezing, lips teasing, in sync with each thrust of his hips and the sound of your breathing, "...that I'm fucking in love with you, baby."

_How the... What the..._ Even if you could conceivably start to believe him, still you could never wrap your mind around the reasons. "Why?"

"Shh," he hushed, bringing his mouth back up to yours, flashing his pearly whites as he nibbled your lip in the tenderest bite. "I don't ask why you love me for the godforsaken piece of crap I am, do I?"

His words hit like a sledgehammer straight to your heart. "Dean..." you gasped desperately, your own hands—which had been numb and limp for some time now, you realized—suddenly flying up to frame his flawless face, fingers tracing each freckle for the precious treasure it was. "Dean, I... I can't even... you..."

"Shh," he whispered again, shutting you up with a deep, sloppy mouthful of tongue.

_Fuck, that felt good._ But you couldn't just lie here and let him think less than the world of himself. You withdrew, as well as you were able to with him being on top of you, twining your fingers in his perfect hair to try to keep his face an inch away, to meet your stare. _How could you even attempt to express just how painfully wrong he was? Where would you even begin?_ There were so many millions of things that made him so unspeakably amazing. You mentioned one of the most obvious and biggest ones, for starters. "You do know you've... you've literally saved the world..."

Dean's gorgeous lashes fluttered in that way they always did when someone tried to praise him. Tried to remind him, convince him, of just how much he was worth. Always with that beautiful, bashful little flutter, as if he didn't deserve it.

_Well,_ you mused, _almost always_ _—always other than when the two of you were having hardcore sex and you gushed on and on about the god he was. He hadn't been bashful at all about taking those praises. Had he not realized how wholeheartedly serious you were, with every single word...?_

He let out a soft sigh; you saw heartbreaking worlds of self-hatred and hurt in his fathomless eyes. "I've fucked up way more shit than I've ever fixed. But hey, even if what you say is true... you know who saved this guy?" he leant in and dropped a sweet kiss on the tip of your nose. "This girl."

_Ugh, he was so damn adorable_ —enough to make you smile a little, a sincere and happy smile, mirroring his, even while both of your hearts were shattering to pieces. Nonetheless, what he had said made no sense. Your brow furrowed. "Saved you...?"

"Yeah," he affirmed, as if it made all the sense in the world. "Not Cas, not Sammy, sure as hell not God. Sure, maybe they help me out now and then. But they're also part of the reason I'm broken. They're not the reason I get up in the morning."

You blinked in an utter lack of understanding.

Still smiling that angelic smile, Dean laughed faintly through his nose, a soft and sexy little laugh that made you swoon before he kept on talking, saying things for reasons you would never know. "If only you knew what I see in you. What you make me feel. It's unreal. When I don't wanna feel a damn thing, when I'm so fucking tired I just wanna lay down and die, I look at you and I—I feel alive. And it feels good, and it feels right. Baby, if only you had any idea..." he gushed, pausing to bite his lip, probably at the sensation of your inner folds gushing around him. Whether or not his words made sense, they got you wet as hell. His boyish smile broadened into a borderline devilish grin at the feeling. "Mmm. Guess I'll just have to try and show you, huh?"

"Mmmn," you echoed as he rolled his hips smoothly, rhythmically into you.

He leaned in for a kiss, smiling still when he pulled back to speak again, sweat-beaded forehead resting warmly on yours. "You know I got my other baby," he breathed, sending a momentary, stupid jolt of panic down your pathetically paranoid spine, his next few words instantly calming your mind, "parked outside. When we're all finished here, I'm gonna take you to the backseat, show you just how much I love you. All night. Show you so good you'll never forget it. Even if you try."

_Oh, fuck_ —you had to shut your eyes or else you knew that you would cry. _Was he for serious?_ He was far too righteous a man to tell such a cruel lie. But there were so many levels on which this couldn't be believed. Your worthlessness aside, it was no secret that Dean had never been the lovey-dovey type. "I thought..." you whispered timidly, "I thought you don't really do the whole... love, and... love thing."

"So did I," he chuckled, knowing that you'd taken the words pretty much straight from his own mouth. "But damn, you do things to me, baby. I mean, look at you."

You blinked. Looking closely enough, you could see yourself reflected in his crystalline caramel-apple-green irises, the apple of his eye. _But what was that supposed to signify?_ You were just a dirty little whore, good for nothing but serving and worshiping him. That was what you saw, at least. _Did Dean see something different?_ To your own surprise, you found that you were brave enough to ask. "What do you see in me?"

He answered as if it were obvious. "Everything. Everything I live for, fight for, hope to die for. This beautiful soul of yours, so full of _good_. So sweet. So pure."

You bit your lip and blinked again, the innocent bat of your lashes bordering on flirty. "Even when I'm dirty?"

"Hell yeah. Especially," he growled, with a gratified grin in his gravelly voice as he started to thrust with more vigor, more force. "The way you love with all your heart, with your entire body. This delicious little body. So damn pretty."

You bit your lip harder as you felt his fingers trail down from your chest to your belly, then lower, releasing your lip with a groan and a gasp as your hands dropped from his hair to grip the rippling muscles of his back. Still beholding your own filthy face in his glorious gaze. "You think I'm pretty, sir? Covered in all your sweet juices?"

"Aw yes, extra pretty like this. But always," he breathed, almost making you believe it as he kissed you again, still softly even if somewhat more forcefully, lips harmonizing seamlessly with his hips. "Mmm, so wet for me. Can't wait to eat you out, baby. Bet you taste sweeter than pie."

The mere thought of Dean going down on you nearly got you off on the spot. Your mind ran rampant with visions of his gorgeous green eyes winking up at you devilishly as he buried his face in your pussy, and... _fuck_. You were instantly in full-on slut mode again. You stared up at Dean in utter awe and adoration, basking in the divine pleasures that his dirty words and deeds brought you. "Fuck—holy fuck, Dean, you are so fucking beautiful, so fucking hot... God, you're perfect..."

"So are you, baby. Come for me."

The combination of those mind-blowing words with his thumb on your clit, his huge dick throbbing deep in your soaking wet slit, brought you right to the edge before you even knew it. "Dean... Deeean..."

Right to the edge. But not quite over it. Not yet, because no matter how damn good it felt, with this god of a man making love to you, caring about you and calling you baby, no matter how perfect it was, or should've been, it was... it was just...

Then suddenly, so suddenly, Dean's other hand went to your neck, seizing your throat in the same way he so often had today. And just like that, the dynamic went from sweet and soft to hardcore in a hot split second. Just like that, you were his slave in every way. And _that_ right there was perfect. "What's that? What do you call me?" he goaded.

"Master..." you managed to choke out despite his grip practically cutting off your vocal cords.

"Yeah, that's right, baby," he growled, teeth grazing your trembling lower lip. "And what do you want me to call you, huh? Call you something else then maybe you'll come faster, like the filthy whore you are? What do I call you. Tell me what you want."

You tried to say it, but his grip around your neck was even tighter now, as his massive cock pounded your core like a fucking plow.

He kissed you, far more violently this time, tongue fucking your face in sync with his dick plunging into your pussy, and your whole body and soul exploded as a sigh somehow escaped your strangled throat, straight into Dean's hot mouth which smothered and sucked in the sound, your wet folds convulsing all around his perfect cock as you both fell apart and came together all at once.

And then he pulled back from your mouth, hand still clamped hard around your throat, and breathed out the word through the sexiest smirk, told you just what you wanted to be called. Always. It was sweet when he called you baby, but deep down you both knew that you were so much less and so much more. You were his slave, his whore. So many things. But there was one word that his gorgeous lips were made to say, especially with you.

He called you what you wanted, now. Said it so hotly that it made you come again before your current orgasm was even done. _Fuck_. Only Dean Winchester. Only Dean could do it, only Dean could say the word so good, the way that cut straight to your very core and scratched your every itch. And say it he did, blurting it out just as the last luscious spurt of his come flooded you deep inside, and the both of you pretty much died. That was when he said it.

"Bitch."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dearest readers — thank you all *SO* much!! I hope you liked reading this little piece of filth as much as I loved writing it :) And please do feel free to comment if you did! It's nice to know that there are others out there who share in my dirty desires to worship Dean Winchester (or at least like to read about this kind of thing). So thanks again!
> 
> I am now working on that dirty Demon Dean epilogue that I mentioned, and I hope to post it sometime this week, so stay tuned if you're intrigued! As stated in the notes on Chapter 7, this epilogue will be *extremely* dark and twisted and kinky. So if you're not into the sound of that, then you can definitely just consider this story complete after Chapter 8. That's how it was originally intended anyway... I'm definitely going to hell for some of the shit that I'm writing in Chapter 9 lol :P
> 
> Thank you again for following this filthy journey so far, and for your kudos, comments, and support! Love you all! <3


	9. Epilogue - Bereft (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Dean have been together for a few years now and couldn't be happier. But then shit happens and he leaves. And when he comes back, he is... different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING: THIS EPILOGUE IS GOING TO INVOLVE SOME SERIOUSLY DARK TWISTED SHIT. DEMON DEAN HAS NO FUCKING LIMITS. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.**
> 
> Okay, so I know I said the epilogue would just be a single installment posted as Chapter 9... but I've been getting SO carried away with writing it that I can now say there will be at least two chapters!! Here's the first :) This Part 1 actually isn't all that twisted, relatively speaking. It is definitely way darker than Chapters 1-8, but the super kinky shit doesn't happen till later on.
> 
> Please note: This epilogue is a shame-free, judgment-free zone. If you find yourself enjoying any of the twisted filth in here, that's awesome (and honestly I'd love to hear it in the comments, lol). But I'm sure that some of this stuff (especially after Part 1) won't be a turn-on for everyone. 
> 
> In any event, this is how I envision Dean treating his bitch once he's a demon, and the idea of this epilogue is to delve into the darkest, dirtiest, damnedest depths of that vision. So if you're down for that, buckle up and read on :)

Nothing so perfect was ever made to last.

Part of you had known it all along. It was everything you'd ever wanted, your deepest dreams brought beautifully to life, and it felt so right that it had to be wrong. These past few years had been absolute heaven on earth, ever since you and Dean had divulged your desires, declared and indulged in your love for each other.

You'd still spent much of your life on the road with the Winchester brothers, but the three of you had also found a sort of home, in an old abandoned bunker. The brothers had agreed to teach you how to be a hunter. You had grown close to Castiel, the blue-eyed angel who had once regarded you with such contempt—he had eventually apologized, explaining that his love for Dean had driven him to envy, but that same love was what led him to acknowledge and appreciate that you made Dean so happy. Of course you had forgiven him, understanding his feelings completely. And there were others, friends and allies, who'd become part of your lives from time to time, part of Team Free Will, the extended circle of people that Dean would call family.

Dean loved his family more than anything, and you were a part of his family. But you were also so much more than that. He told you every night that you were everything to him. And he showed you just how much he meant it. Just the way he wanted: sweet and gentle with your heartbeat pressed to his—and just the way you needed: rough and hard like you were nothing but his dirty little bitch. He took on the dominating role mostly for you, but some part of him always enjoyed it, too. More than he wanted to admit, you knew he loved it. And you loved him that much more because of it.

It was fucking perfect.

Till it wasn't.

You remembered every minute of the night when it ended. The blood at the back of your head. His soft touch against it, the look in his eyes as he realized that he couldn't fix it, that he'd hurt you in a way he couldn't heal. Over the years, your love had healed Dean of so much of his self-hatred—it all surged back with a vengeance when he saw the flash of red. You could see it written all across his face, the only thing that he could feel.

It was all your fault, you knew. For begging him to take you in that dark alley that night and slam you up against the filthy dumpster like the trash you were. In the shadows, there was no way Dean could have seen the sharp objects protruding from the pile of garbage when he gripped your neck to bend it back over the dumpster's edge, just like you wanted. You had cried out upon the sudden jolt of pain, but for all he knew it had just been another scream of ecstasy as your tight, wet cunt clenched around him and came. Had he not felt the dampness at the back of your head and rushed to tend to it beneath the nearest source of light, you would've died.

You would've died. As it was, Dean called on Cas, and at the angel's touch the fatal damage was undone as if it'd never even happened. But it had. Your bloody wound was gone, but Dean would feel that blood forever on his hands.

"I love you, [Y/N]," he said that night as you urged him to come to bed, to hold you tight. "But I... I can't."

Without another word, you knew he wanted you to let him go. And so you did. Even as your heart shattered, it would never let you fail to give Dean Winchester just what he wanted. Nothing else had ever mattered.

"Dean is gone," Castiel told you in the morning. "He loves you very much, and that is why he asked me to—"

"No. Please," you interrupted in a weak whimper, eyes all salted and burning from a stream of tears you feared would never end. Even in your bleary state, you knew just what the angel meant. "These memories... they're all I have of him. I'd rather die than ever lose them. Please, Cas, don't make me forget. Dean is _everything_ to me. Just—just kill me if you must, but I can't go on living if..."

"I understand," Cas said. All too well, he did. The unshed tears in his blue eyes evinced it as he gently clasped your hand. "You can keep your memories, [Y/N]. This is hardly the first time I've disobeyed Dean."

You thanked him, grateful that the angel had the courage to do what you never could. To defy Dean's command, deny him what he wanted. Yet some part of you knew you were doing just that, in refusing to relinquish all your memories of him—it was so selfish of you, so wrong to go against his wishes, and you hated yourself more than ever in this moment. Especially because Dean wasn't even here to punish you for it.

But it was all that you could do. You clung to every memory even as it ruined you. Every second of every day, you wondered where he was, what he was doing, who he was... fucking. It fucking hurt, bad, but no part of you ever stopped thinking of him. Sam and Cas—who kept in touch with him even though you couldn't—would constantly assure you that Dean was okay. That he just needed more time away, out on the road, alone, but that he was okay. That was all they would say.

Then, all of a sudden, the assurances stopped one day.

Your heart sank as you realized that Dean had gone off the grid. You knew that Sam and Cas were trying everything they could to get a hold of him; for weeks on end, they tried, but never found him. Or at least they never told you if they did.

It was a dark autumn night when Dean found you instead.

You were taking out the trash, for the first time since Dean had left. Sam still thought it was too soon for you to go anywhere near a garbage dump, after what had happened. But you insisted. You hoped that confronting your trauma might help you to heal. Deep down though, in your self-torturing core, you just wanted your distant memories of Dean to feel more real.

And they did. You walked up to the dumpster by the bunker, heaved the lid open, and listened to the thud and clink of junk jostling around as you threw the trash bags in. Then you just stood there for a second. Or a minute. One hand kept the lid lifted, and the other gripped the dumpster's edge, remembering when Dean had fatally bent your head over a similar surface. You stared into the gaping darkness, deep and dirty like the hole inside you ever since he'd vanished.

You shut your eyes and wept. The man that you would always love above all else had left. Your heart, your soul, your body, every part of you was utterly bereft...  

"Hey there, princess."

Your eyes shot open. There was no mistaking that whiskey-wet, velvety voice. _You were dreaming. You had to be dreaming._ Your hand dropped away from the dumpster's lid, which fell closed behind you as you turned to face him. The beautiful, beloved face that filled your every dream.

"Dean...?" you breathed. You knew it had to be. And yet he looked... he looked _different_. So different, with his hair styled in a richly roguish way that made you want to run your fingers through it all day, his maroon button-down parted down the middle to reveal a tight black tee that fit like sin against his skin, clinging to each ridge and bulge of chiseled muscle underneath. He had always been devilishly handsome, but never quite _so_ devilishly. His lips looked fuller and more curved, as if stuck permanently in a subtle cocky smirk, and his eyes somehow just seemed... _darker_.

Till this moment, you hadn't thought that it was possible for Dean Winchester to ever become any sexier. Yet now here he was, looking like sex incarnate, so fucking hot it literally hurt, showing you just how wrong you were.

You were frozen in place. He stood still, just a few steps away. Then he suddenly, swiftly, came toward you to eliminate that space.

"Dean...!" you sighed as his strong, hard frame smashed into your trembling body, shoving your back against the dump behind you, one of his sturdy hands gripping your waist, the other snaking up to graze your face.

"That's my name, baby," he growled, his voice husky and dark, upper lip curling into a sinful snarl. "Miss me?"

Before you could say anything, he blinked. And when his eyes opened, you instantly stopped breathing. Gone was the beloved golden-green that you had missed. _Dean's eyes were black. Pitch black._

"No..." you gasped.

"Oh, yes," he hissed, smirking as he clutched your chin in a harsh, loveless grasp. "But not possessed. Just Dean. Your precious Dean. It's all me in here, baby."

_No... no, this couldn't be..._

He cocked his head, leering with pleasure at the horrified tears spilling down your cheeks. "What's the matter, sweetheart? Oh, that's right—almost forgot. _Princess... baby... sweetheart..._ " he uttered each word like a sugarcoated curse. "...all these soft little terms are a turn-off. Feels unnatural, doesn't it. Feels wrong for me to call you anything but a pathetic, worthless, filthy piece of _shit_."

A stifled moan escaped you as Dean's hand descended to strangle your throat. Hearing those words from his lips, the abuse that you'd missed, and the feeling of his viselike grip around your vulnerable neck, got you all soaking wet in seconds. No less so when he was a demon like this. _Maybe even more so_ , you realized, silently hating yourself for it.

"Knew I'd find your sorry ass here," he snarled, using his free hand to grope violently at your rear. "Just can't keep away from the trash, can you, bitch."

You were wearing your favorite pair of pajama pants. The ones that used to always get Dean hard because he liked the way they hugged your ass. You could feel him hardening against you now, for what you knew were different reasons, as he clawed these pants and your thin lacy underwear off with his bare, brutal hands.

"Bet you come out here every night and fuck yourself against this filthy dumpster to remember our last time together. Get off thinking of me making you bleed to death again."

You shuddered. Aroused though you were, those savage words had hit a nerve. They weren't even true. And they hurt. For the first time ever, you realized in utter terror, Dean was hurting you in a way you didn't want him to. "No, Dean—I..."

Then, in a blinding flash, your head had suddenly collided with the hard surface beneath it. From the sheer pain and shock, you felt your body going slack against the dumpster as the back of your head crashed into its closed lid. A few blurry seconds passed before you realized that one of Dean's hands had risen back up to your neck and that he'd slammed you down like that. _Of course he had._

He bent his head down close to yours, puckered his perfect lips— _yes, even through all this, they were perfect, always perfect_ —inches away from your pathetic panting mouth, and spat. "Don't you dare _ever_  say no to me. Dumb fucking slut. Thought you knew better than that."

A groan escaped your gasping throat, more so from pleasure than from pain. It felt so damn good to have Dean dominating and degrading you again. You lived for this. You sucked down the spit that landed in your mouth, savoring the flavor as you did. It filled you with a burning need for more of it, and every other fluid that came out of him—his creamy come, his salty sweat, his pure gold piss, any sweet drop that he would give. Demon or not, this was definitely the same flawless face, the same beautiful body that you'd always worshiped. You were prepared for him to slap you hard across the face now, smear his spit all over it, just like he always did. You fucking craved it.

Instead you felt his fingers tangle in your hair, then yank your skull sharply upward only to slam it down against the metal lid again. And again. You were too numb to tell whether you'd started bleeding.

"By the time I'm done with you," Dean grunted as his hand finally dropped away from your head, letting it fall back with a dull thud as he reached to rip your shirt off and start manhandling your breasts, "you're gonna wish this dump had been wide open, full of all sorts of sharp shit so that your dumb head would've already bled out by now. Just like the last time I fucked you to death. But no. You don't deserve to die like that. Bloody wound to the head in a dump full of trash. That kind of death would be too... dignified, wouldn't it? Not dirty enough for such a good-for-nothing bitch."

It was true. Some part of you knew it. The lowest, deepest part of you, the part that this demonic Dean was bringing to the surface. Slowly peeling back each lingering layer of self-worth, the stubborn little scraps of dignity that you hadn't even known you were still clinging to. Now he made sure that you knew, by sadistically stripping every last shred from you.

He was biting down hard on your sensitive tits as his hands left your chest, and you heard the rustle of metal and leather, familiar but now more fearsome than ever, as he quickly unbuckled his belt. "What I've got planned for you... the twisted shit I'm gonna do..." he threatened as you felt his throbbing dick spring from his jeans, bumping against your clit for one split second before he plunged it deep inside your slit, impaling you in one swift thrust down to the hilt. "This time, my little pet angel won't be able to save you. No one will."

With a euphoric scream, you took him in, the whole damn length of him, the hole that only he could fill, soaking in this perfect fullness that you'd missed. You didn't want to be saved. Not from this. All you wanted was him.

"You know, Cas told me how he'd disobeyed. That he couldn't bring himself to take your memories away. Fucking pussy he is," Dean snickered as he drove his raging cock deeper inside you than it'd ever been. You could've sworn it was bigger now that it belonged to a demon. "I thought I'd have to punish him for that, but now... now this new me is glad that you didn't forget. That you're still so madly, completely in love with me. That everything about me gets you fucking soaking wet. This way I can break not only your body, every filthy hole, but also your pathetic little heart and worthless soul."

He clamped a hand around your breathless throat again and swept the other down your abdomen. His cock was so huge, hammering so vigorously into you, that he could probably see the pounding bulge of it beneath your skin, you shamelessly imagined. You felt his calloused palm push firmly down against it.

"Look at you taking this demon dick. So big it barely even fits. You're such a tight, wet little piece of shit," he taunted, leaning in to feed your hungry mouth another shot of his hot spit. "And you fucking love when I remind you of it."

You really fucking did. Could feel your cunt pulsating desperately around him as his hand slid up your torso to squeeze one of your tits in his merciless fist.

"Love it so damn much. But never as much as our first time. Ain't that right, slut? The only time that you really believed it," he said, the truth of his words cutting brutally into you, scratching your deepest itch. Especially as his eyes flashed to pitch black again, a devilish smile spreading across his scrumptious lips. "Time to believe again, bitch."

Maybe you should've been ashamed, that the moment his eyes flashed to black was the moment you came. But you weren't. Of course you would love him for being a demon, if that was the reason Dean said all this dark shit and meant every word.

Still recovering from the hellish waves of heaven rippling through your core, you yelped as he slapped your face hard with the back of his hand. "Taking your pleasure before me, huh? Is that how you respect your master? Cunt squirting all over my dick when I'm not even done with it?" He slapped you again, harder. "Greedy pig."

Your face hurt, but the pain was so familiar and brought you so much pleasure. You weren't as prepared for his next form of torture. Dean took your nipples in his fingers, pulled and twisted so hard that you thought he was trying to rip them off. Whimpering wildly, you squirmed beneath his touch, almost ashamed of enjoying your punishment so much. Almost. But you knew no such thing as shame anymore.

Dean slid out of you and let go of your tits. "On your knees, bitch," he commanded. "But don't even think about touching my cock. Just kneel down and gawk like the dumb whore you are."

You didn't think you had control over your body at this point, numb and reeling as you were, but your limbs were animated with the urge to heed your master's orders. You sank to the ground, wincing at the crunch of gravel underneath your kneecaps as you dropped down with your back against the dumpster. You gaped dutifully up at Dean's gorgeous face first, then at his sculpted chest as he stripped out of his button-down and yanked off his black shirt, then at the perfect cock hovering so close to your lips, your tongue twitching with thirst.

Dean stared dominantly down at you and smirked. "You wanna taste some demon cock? That what you want? Your hungry little mouth is gaping wide just like your sloppy fucking cunt," he teased, and you knew that the insult was true; after having been ravaged by his big demonic dick, your dripping pussy felt like it'd been broken open. You just prayed that it would someday tighten up for him to use again. "Fucked you up better than the old Dean ever could. You miss him yet? You would, if you had even just a shred of self-respect."

You felt a swell of tears rise to your eyes. Of course you missed that Dean. You always would. You missed the way his bright golden-green gaze would trace your lips before he leaned in for a kiss. You missed the way he still blushed, every time, when you would pause to count the precious freckles on his face as you so often did. You missed the way he would say sorry if he'd overcooked the pancakes whenever he'd wake you with breakfast in bed. You missed the way the burnt brown edges of the pancakes tasted. They were perfect, always perfect. He was perfect.

But that Dean deserved a girl with self-respect. Someone who could love and worship him without completely sacrificing her own sense of dignity. _Someone you could never be._ He claimed to love you, and you came close to believing him at times, but deep down you knew that his reasons for being with you had to be rooted in nothing but pity and charity.

It was beyond pathetic. For all these years, you had robbed Dean of the love and happiness he could have had with someone more deserving. There could be no greater sin. You didn't deserve to miss him. So you didn't. You did, but you didn't.

The demon towering over you—still the man you loved, in the same skin, and yet so devilishly different—snickered ruthlessly as he read every self-pitying thought in your head. "Not that it matters. The old Dean would never come anywhere near you again. Just the thought of his fucktoy, his filthy little pig, makes him sick to his stomach. You know the biggest reason why he hates himself so much?" he asked, gripping your jaw in his hand and angling your head up towards him, forcing you now to meet his gaze instead of staring at his dick. "Because he’s disgusted to think that he ever touched something so fucking pathetic."  

Despite how much it hurt—or more likely because of that, you knew—it felt so right to hear him say it. You looked lovingly up into his flawless face as he slapped yours a few more times and spat on you again, a thick wad of it landing on one of your eyelids. You blinked instinctively, your lashes clumped together with the sticky fluid. Wondered if he had been aiming for your eye or if it had just been a well-deserved accident. But you didn't have to wonder long; he answered your unasked question by spitting straight into your other eye then. You tried to blink it away, not because you deserved the privilege of clear vision, but because you couldn't stand the thought of kneeling before this man, this demon, without beholding just how goddamned beautiful he was. You knew better than to try to use your hands, though. Dean wouldn't want that. The whole time, they were clasped submissively behind your back.

He laughed, a low and wicked laugh that made you quiver in sheer pleasure as you suffered the humiliation that you so deeply deserved. And he had plenty more in store. When a hot stream of piss suddenly splattered straight onto your forehead, you gasped—it was so unexpected in this moment, with him so erect, rock hard and huger than you'd ever seen him. Usually Dean was only at half-mast, at best, when he showered you with piss. _Maybe the same physical limits no longer applied now that he was a demon..._ The thought got you so hot that you forgot how to breathe again.

"There was so much shit your precious Dean would never let himself admit," he stated, shifting his aim a bit lower to soak your tits, then raising back up to your chin, hovering just below your lips. "I'm gonna tell you all his secrets while you swallow all my piss. That's it, slut. Drink up. Show me just how much you've missed this."

 _So damn much_. You let your jaw fall open as he targeted your tongue, his golden piss flooding your mouth so fast that you began to fear you couldn't quite keep up. Everything about him was so much more...  _powerful_ now that he was a demon. You didn't know if this delicious stream would ever stop. And you would be perfectly happy with that, you thought as your ever-thirsting throat contracted eagerly over and over again to guzzle every single drop.

And Dean talked down at you the whole time as you drank his hot piss, just as he had promised. “Why do you think treating you like shit always got Dean so damn hard? Deep down, he always knew that’s what you are. But he felt guilty for giving you what you deserve, getting off on violating you, making you suffer. So he told himself he loved you, just to make his sad little soul feel better. As if he only fucked you like a worthless piece of shit because you begged for it. As if he was doing you some kind of favor. Fucking hilarious. Some part of him, the deepest part of him, loved every second of abusing you and calling you his good-for-nothing bitch. Some part of him meant every word of it."

As his stream faded into a trickle, he shoved the wet tip of his cock against your tongue to let you clean it up, then pulled out and bent down to bring his face closer to yours. You met his gorgeous gaze as you gulped down the pool of piss left in your mouth.

"And guess what, slut?" he whispered as he gripped your chin and blinked, eyes flashing black again. "I’m that part of him.”

You wanted to thank him, for feeding you his piss and for spilling the old Dean's dirty secrets, but you weren't sure if he wanted you to speak, so you just bit your piss-soaked lip, licking the precious stray drops off of it.

Dean watched with dark, dangerous eyes as you savored the taste of his juices. “That's right. And now you’re gonna love me even more. Worship me harder than you ever did before. Aren’t you, whore.”

You nodded desperately. _Of course_.

A ravenous growl rumbled deep in his gullet. He leaned in to bite your lower lip, hard, drawing blood, and then pulled back and stared you down as he wrapped both of his big hands around your throat, squeezing tight and sneering with arousal as he watched you choke. "I am going to fucking _destroy_ you."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's still with me on this fucking filthy journey?!? Anyone eager to read about getting destroyed by Demon Dean?! Do let me know please :)
> 
> And if you're tapping out now, no worries, I get it. This epilogue is only going to get darker and much more twisted...
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Love you all <3


	10. Epilogue - Bereft (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demon Dean meant what he said. He is going to fucking destroy you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue continues with Part 2! After this part, there will be at least one more, for any dirty whores still on board ;) 
> 
> Part 2 gets darker, dirtier and more degrading than Part 1, but the most seriously twisted shit doesn't start happening yet. There will probably be notes about that on Part 3...

When his strangling grip finally released, moments before you reached the verge of blacking out, you caught your breath and let the words you longed to speak slip past your lips. "Thank you, sir. I want you to."

Dean had stood to his full height again, one hand stroking his massive cock as he looked down at you. "What's that, slave? You want me to destroy you?"

You nodded wholeheartedly. "Yes, master. Please."

His plump lips twisted up into a snicker of disgust. "Filthy cunt. This isn't about what you want," he rasped, dealing your cheek a sharp slap. "What you want doesn't matter. Nothing about you will ever matter. Do you fucking understand that? You exist only to serve and to worship your master."

"I know, sir..."

He smacked the same cheek again, harder. "Do you?"

"Yes, sir. I live only for you. I will die for you, master. In whatever way you want me to."

You bit down on your bleeding lip once you'd said it. Those kinds of words had always triggered Dean to tap out of his dominant role, you remembered. There was some shit that he had always just refused to say or do with you. Anything morbid, anything that he thought was just too dangerously unsanitary, anything that could inflict permanent injury—that kind of twisted shit had always been strictly off-limits.

But that was the old Dean. Whereas with this demon, this Dean, you realized with a thrill so intense that it threatened to kill— _literally_ —there were no limits to the twisted shit that he would do to you. He could give you everything that you so shamelessly deserved and needed. He had no fucking limits. He was perfect.

His pearly whites flashed in a wicked smirk. "Damn right you will," he agreed, his smirk widening as he lifted the leaking head of his dick closer to your lips. "Hmm, maybe this demon cock is big enough to kill. Should I go ahead and shove it down that dirty throat until you fucking choke?"

Your response was to drop your jaw open and bob your dumb head in a deep, desperate nod.

"Mmm. Why don't you worship my dick before I choke you with it."

 _Yes, fuck yes._ You shifted on your knees to position your mouth right in front of his hot, sweaty crotch where it'd always belonged. The intoxicatingly rich smell of Dean's manhood, his meat and his musk filled your lungs. You indulged in a few long, deep breaths, loving how his scent was even stronger now that he'd become a demon, wetting your panting lips with your slobbery tongue.

"Look at you getting off on just sniffing my cock. You are so damn pathetic. Didn't I tell you to worship this big demon dick?" he scolded, gripping it firmly by the base and slamming it against your lips. "Suck it, bitch."

"F-fuck, thank you, sir," you stuttered as you opened up for him.

But then his hand released his dick and came down hard against your cheek. "Did I say you could speak, whore? Think I wanna hear that slutty little voice of yours?" he snapped, slapping your face a few times more. "Now shut up and suck this cock like you were fucking born to do it. Know you were."

 _Yes sir_ , you replied silently with your adoring eyes as you wrapped your loving lips around the wet head of his dick. And holy _fuck_ , the flavor of Dean Winchester's enormous, gorgeous cock was even better than you had remembered. Salty and sweet and so damn savory. You moaned as you flicked your tongue into his piss slit to swirl up every precious drop of precome seeping from it, perfectly encircling the tip of his dick with your suctioning lips, then popping off of it with a slick slurping sound as your mouth slipped down to drop worshipful kisses all over his thick, throbbing shaft...

 _Thwack._ You gasped at the shock of Dean suddenly having grabbed his cock to bring it down against your cheek with a loud smack.

"I said _suck_. Not kiss. You stupid piece of  _shit_ ," he hissed as he punished your face with several more smacks of his dick. "Want something to kiss? You that goddamned desperate? Why don't you kiss my filthy fucking boots, you worthless pig. Then maybe I'll let you take my sweaty socks off with your teeth so you can kiss my feet."

 _God, you had missed your master's flawless feet._ The smell, the taste, the feel of him using every last inch of his rough heels and his arched soles and his perfect toes to dominate the fuck out of your face. You didn't need any convincing to drop your head down to the ground and press your lips desperately into the toe of Dean's dirty brown boot. His jeans were bunched around his ankles; you used your nose to nudge the pile of denim out of the way so that you could—

"Fucking bottom-feeding scum," he sneered down at you as the boot that you were kissing suddenly pulled back from your mouth and then, before you'd even realized what was happening, Dean was kicking your face down into the ground, fucking stepping on your head so that one of your cheeks was grinding deep into the gravel as the other was mashed up into the hard sole of his shoe. It felt like his entire body weight was pushing down on you. "You like that, bitch? Like being crushed beneath these feet, like you're a piece of dog shit dumped out on the street?"

Dizzy from the impact of Dean's demeaning words and brutalizing act, you shuddered as your cunt convulsed in pleasure, dripping wet. Yes, you loved it. You deserved it. You so obviously did.

When his shoe finally lifted off of you, it was to shift his weight and bring his other boot to press down on your neck, stifling your gasping throat. You coughed and choked. He put just enough pressure to make your vision start fading to black as you struggled for breath, but not enough to break your neck or throttle you to death. You didn't deserve to die yet.

Once Dean was done with that, he watched you squirming in the dirt for a few seconds, kicked some loose gravel into your groveling face. You tried to blink the grit away as you gazed up at him. He ran a hand through his thick, ruffled hair, his forearm flexing so beautifully with that motion, each rippling muscle clearly visible even in the dim outdoor lighting.

"Get up, slave. Need some more demon piss to wash that filth off of your face?"

With the best nod you could manage in your ravaged state, you heaved yourself back up onto your knees and stared obediently up at him, mouth open as he gripped his dick and hosed you down again. He aimed some of it to drip all over your face, the rest of it for you to drink.

"When the piss stops, once your dirty mouth is all cleaned up, then you can finally start worshiping my cock."

You knelt in reverent silence as you swallowed every drop.

Dean's dark gaze briefly drifted over toward the nearby bunker. "Say, you wonder why Sammy and Cas haven't come looking for you yet?"

You hadn't. Ever since Dean had arrived, you couldn't possibly have been thinking of anyone or anything but him.

He snickered down at you just as his steady golden stream subsided to a dribble. "Stupid skank. In case you need more proof that you've never been worth shit to anyone, just think of that. They know you were just taking out the trash. Should've been back."

It was true, you realized now as you lapped up the last spurt of Dean's piss and descended to start worshiping his dick just like he wished.

"Yet here you are, swallowing down some demon cock," he scoffed. "And they can't be bothered to give a fuck."

It was all too true. And it was really fucking sad. Sam had acted like he cared, cautioning you against taking out trash when the sight of a dumpster might bring your traumatic memories flooding back. But once you left the bunker with the garbage bags, apparently he didn't have to keep up the charade anymore. Didn't stop to wonder what was keeping you so long out here. Didn't even care. That was how little you mattered. It was one thing not to matter to a demon, a being designed not to care about anything—but to Dean's own brother and his closest friend, both of whom claimed to love you like family... It hurt like hell knowing that you didn't matter to them. It made you realize that you must have never really mattered to Dean either, even back when he was human. The thought brought you to tears. Through the thick mouthful of cock that you were swallowing, you couldn't keep the bitter tears from falling.

"Quit crying like a little bitch and _suck_."

You did, hard, and you tried not to cry, but the tears wouldn't stop.

"Fuck you, whore," Dean spat as he grabbed your head in his big hands, blunt nails digging into your scalp. "Taking cock is all you're good for. Now you can't even do your damn job."

You were so fucking sorry, and that made you start crying even harder, which really pissed him off.

"Guess I'll just have to do it for you, then, huh? That what you want? My cock slamming your throat like it's a dripping fucking cunt?" Dean rasped. Grunting fiercely, he tangled his fists in your hair and began fucking your face with a fury that threatened to break you in half, his body burning with a fire in his blood that only a demon could have.

With each ferocious thrust, the back of your skull banged against the dumpster as his brutally beautiful cock barreled into your mouth like a battering ram, each buck of his hips bashing your brains with a reminder of the trash you were. You felt dampness behind your head from the minor wounds that Dean had already inflicted when he'd smashed your head into the lid. New blood was spilling now, old and new mingling warm and wet against the frigid metal surface. None of this damage was fatal, you knew, but it could all become deadly any minute if Dean wanted it to.

He didn't. Not yet. But he did want to bring you right up to the edge of death by cutting off your breath. One of his violent hands moved from your hair and pinched your nose so hard that you saw stars. With your mouth so forcefully stuffed, all possible sources of air to your lungs were completely closed off. The pressure, the pleasure and the pain that swiftly became one and the same as they pulsed through your veins, the way your human impulse to panic gave way to the urge to surrender yourself to the end that you craved, to worship your perfect master in the most dehumanizing ways until you died here as his slave... from all of this, you truly never wanted to be saved. And even if you'd wanted to, you knew you were beyond saving. Beneath saving. _Beneath everything—especially him._

Dean's fingers were still clamped hard over your nose as his monster cock pummeled and plowed through your spluttering throat. Your head, your heart, your body and your soul felt underwater and on fire all at once, drowning and burning, pounding as if they were going to fucking explode. And then, all of a sudden, Dean let go—it didn't take you long to realize why: he wanted you to be alive to swallow down his load. To take every last drop of the delicious demon seed that started shooting down your gullet as you gagged on his huge dick. And you did.  _Shit, there was so goddamned much of it._

"Ugh, you nasty little  _bitch_ ," Dean snarled. "Yeah, that's it, drink up all the damn come from this big demon dick. You fucking live for this."

Both of his hands framed your dumb face again in his merciless grip as he pumped your throat full of his glorious juices. You gulped and groaned, trying and failing to guzzle it all, feeling gobs of his come and your spit sloshing out of the sides of your mouth each time he pulled his shaft partway out, just to plunge it in deeper again, his huge balls slapping over and over again against your sloppy chin. He was _still_ fucking coming. It felt like he'd been coming for a whole damn minute. _Fuck_ , you thought as your lips stretched and strained around his luscious cock, _it really was mind-blowing how this demon Dean had no physical limits. So fucking hot._

He suddenly whipped his dick out of your mouth, one hand twined in your hair to keep your head firmly in place, the other wrapped around his massive length, stroking and spraying the last several ropes of his thick white come onto your freshly fucked face. The sounds that he was making as he came were fucking feral—guttural grunts and growls, as grating as the gravel underfoot, the rocky ground that grazed your knees and made them bleed.

Once Dean was done, practically every inch of your pathetic face was covered in his come. He pushed your head back hard so that it crashed into the dumpster again, and you heard a ruthless laugh escape his perfect lips as you winced and whimpered in pain.

"Fucking squirming like an insect. Squealing like a pig," he taunted. "Just look at you, bitch. How the fuck did you get so pathetic?"

You bowed your head and gasped for breath, palms pressed into your thighs to brace yourself, a sad attempt to stay upright and somewhat conscious where you knelt. Tried to inhale through your nose, to keep your mouth shut as you strove to swallow every lingering drop of come that clung onto your tongue.

Dean reached down and took your jaw in his hand, forcing your face up to look at him. "Start wagging that come-guzzling tongue and answer the question, you dumb fucking slut."

"I..." you stammered, voice cracking just then as you coughed on a big sticky bubble of come in your throat. "...I was born like this, sir. I am a piece of shit that was put on this earth just to worship my beautiful master."

"Mmm," he hummed, leering maliciously down at you as he gathered up some of the come on your chin with a sweep of his thumb. "Bet you think I'm gonna praise you for being a good slave and knowing your place. Ain't that just what the old Dean would've done?"

You nodded as his thumb pushed past your lips, sighing in bliss as you sucked the sweet demon seed off of it.

"Yeah it is," he snickered, repeating the act with his other fingers, swiping the cream off of your snout and forehead and cheeks and feeding it to you like fucking dinner, smearing it all over your teeth and gums, white knuckles kneading your wriggling tongue, then allowing you to kiss the tip of each one after cleaning off the come. "But that old Dean is dead and gone. This new Dean knows that you don't deserve praise for anything. And you don't even want it. Human Dean was a goddamned pussy who would feed you with sugarcoated bullshit. But you love it when this demon tells you what you really are and fucking punishes you for it. Yeah, I'm all you've got. And all you want. You fucking desperate, pathetic, come-sucking scum."

Your cunt was soaking at his cruel words as you slavishly continued sucking up all of his come. It tasted even better coming from a demon. So raw and real, so ripe and rich, full of the deepest, dirtiest essence of Dean, the man you loved, the beast inside him that had been so beautifully unleashed.

Once your face had been wiped clean, you thanked him wordlessly with your worshipful eyes, which then dropped down to check whether you may have missed a drop. You had; there were a few stray streaks of come on his boots, and some had splattered on the ground. You stooped to kiss and suck the pearly drops off of his shoes, scraping with your teeth to clean it all, as some had started drying up. Then you licked up whatever come had landed on the gravel, trying not to grimace at the taste of dirt and dust that was inseparably mixed with Dean's delicious juices. It was worth it. Anything to worship him was worth it.

Dean raised and then lowered one of his feet, bringing the sole of his boot to press down on the back of your head, forcing your face deeper into the ground as you cleaned it. "You are so damn disgusting. Look at you, how low you will go for my come. Look how much you fucking love it. You sick piece of shit."

You knew it, but you loved how he reminded you so well of it. You loved the way he stomped you down into the ground until you almost suffocated. You loved it when his foot finally pulled off, letting air into your lungs again, not because you deserved the privilege of breathing, but because you wanted to go on living so that you could keep worshiping him, more than anything.

Rolling onto your back, you looked longingly up at the godly gorgeous demon who was so masterfully degrading every ounce of your being into something else, something subhuman. This was what you'd always wished the old Dean would've done. What his own humanity had kept him from. He was so beautiful then, so perfect as he'd always been, your _everything_ —but now... now he was all of that and so much more. He owned you now in ways he'd never let himself before. You loved and worshiped him so hard it hurt to even look at him, but all you ever wanted was that pain.

To your dismay, then, you watched as Dean slipped back into his jeans, sad to see the cock of your dreams hidden from vision again. You had hoped so badly that he would kick off his boots, tell you to strip his socks off with your teeth and kiss his sweaty feet, just as he'd teased. Or that he would sit on your face, make you devour his divine ass with your desperate mouth, let you lick so deep inside his tight, hot shithole that your tongue would fucking get stuck there and never come out.

But you didn't deserve such sweet pleasures. You didn't deserve him. The purpose of your existence was to worship and serve him, but you had never been worthy of that purpose. You didn't deserve to exist; you weren't worthy of anything. You just wondered how much longer your beloved master would let you go on living. Every second of your sad life was a privilege, a gift from him.

You stared up in awe at each beautiful bulge of his muscles as Dean zipped his fly, pulled his belt through the buckle.

"All right," he sighed as he gathered his shirts, shrugging into the black tee and flinging the maroon button-down over his shoulder. "Enough foreplay for one night."

 _Foreplay?_ You felt your throat contract in an involuntary gulp. For the old Dean, what had happened tonight—aside from the fact that a lot of it would have been off-limits for him—would have qualified as a super intense hardcore fuck session from which he'd need time to recover, physically and psychologically. But for the new Dean, this diabolically dignity-destroying demon, all of that had been nothing but a warm-up. Foreplay. _God, that was so fucking hot._

Dean squatted down beside your lolling head and snaked a hand into your tangled hair, tilting your face toward his. "And now, my filthy fucking slave, I'm gonna take you somewhere nobody could ever find you, even if they wanted to. Someplace faraway. No more fucking foreplay."

You swallowed and stared, hypnotized by the stark shadows cast across his flawless features as he smiled darkly down at you. _Did he mean hell itself? Was he about to kill you, here and now?_ Something in his sinful voice suggested otherwise. There was still so much more twisted shit that he had planned to do, you knew. Whether he planned to put you through it down in hell or here on earth... as long as it was pain coming from Dean, then either way for you it would be heaven, all the same.

You bit your bloody lip and held your breath as he leaned in, eyes flashing black again.

"I'm tired of playing," he growled, suddenly smacking you across the face so hard that you forgot your name. _Not as if you would ever need it anyway._ Dean's next words were the last thing you heard before consciousness drained from your veins. "Let's finish this game."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought that would be a good way to use that epic Demon Dean quote from the Soul Survivor episode ;) God, he is so fucking hot..... 
> 
> So who here is still following this dirty journey?!? I really love and appreciate all of your comments — thank you and keep them coming please! :)


	11. Epilogue - Bereft (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know how Kevin Tran once called Dean's basement a "sex torture dungeon" (Season 7 Episode 21)? And Dean said it wasn't? Yeah, now it actually is, and Dean takes you there, bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, this epilogue just keeps demanding that I write more!!! Here is Part 3... it does get pretty dark and twisty, as you might guess from the summary, but the seriously twisted shit is still in store for Part 4...

You woke up in what felt like a different skin. The same meatsuit as ever, the body that heaven had given your soul to call home—but everything about it felt different. No longer your own. Every part of your being belonged to a demon. A creature from hell who had taken what heaven had given, and crushed it to nothing. This skin was a shell, and your soul was a hole. You were no longer human. You were no longer anything. You knew it to be true, in each cell of the body he'd beaten, each beat of the heart that he'd broken apart.

First you had been bereft of Dean, the righteous man you loved, the one who was your everything. Now a different Dean, a demon in the same skin that you loved above all else, had come to bereave you of the only thing you had left: yourself.

Not even death would bring this to an end—for all eternity, you knew your soul would be devoted to this beautiful man, this brutal demon, destined to worship him forever as he tortured and destroyed you in the darkest depths of hell. Over and over and over again.

And all you could think in this moment, your sad little cunt dripping wet at the thought, was that... _that sounded like fucking heaven_.

So did the words you heard next.

"Rise and shine, bitch."

_Oh God, yes._ Your whole body, the body that belonged wholly to him, trembled in bliss. Dean's voice always made you want to come just at the sound of it.

You heard a heavy door fall closed behind him, followed by his footsteps as he crossed the room. You would've turned toward him as soon as you'd heard him come in, but as you stirred from your unconscious state—the state in which you'd been ever since he had knocked you out beside the trash bin—it took a few seconds for you to gain control over your aching limbs. And a few more seconds then to process your surroundings.

You were in a cage, in a room that a prophet you once knew would have called a sex torture dungeon. The thick, windowless walls were streaked with grime and bloody stains, as was the table at the far end of the room, strewn with instruments of pain. There was a massive mirror on the ceiling, just above your cage. The hard stone floor was rough against your skin and reeked of sin. You found that you'd been curled up in fetal position; as your mobility returned, you shifted, lifting yourself up onto your knees.

But as you moved your head, you met resistance—you realized then that a studded leather collar was encircling your neck, tied to a black leash that'd been tethered to one of the bars of your prison. You should've seen it when you had noticed the mirror overhead, but your vision had still been bleary then. You settled into a position that your leash and collar could accommodate. There was no part of you that panicked or resented your restraint; if this was how Dean wanted you, then you had no place wanting to be any other way.

All you wanted was to see him. To hear him, and to smell and touch and taste him, once he granted you that privilege. You watched in rapture as your ravishing master finally came into view. There was a single chair along the far wall, richly upholstered in plush red, its back proud and tall, that resembled a throne— _fit for a king, for a god such as him_ , you thought as he strode over toward it. Dean's upper body was beautifully unclothed, his muscular back gleaming like sculpted gold in the chamber's dim lighting, glistening with a faint sheen of sweat that you prayed he would soon let you lick. You wished that you could also see the naked skin below his hips, but he was wearing jeans, probably to torture you on purpose, and the same dirty brown boots that you had so recently kissed. As much as you loved to worship his bare feet, you realized that you couldn't wait for Dean to crush you underneath those rugged shoes again.

Your king turned to face you as he sat his pretty ass down in his throne. As he did, your breath caught in your throat; you were truly never going to get over just how beautiful he was. His face was so painfully _perfect_. His eyes were Dean's own sparkling emeralds for now, though you knew they could flash to pitch black any second. Either way, they were fucking exquisite. As was every other inch of him. Your loving gaze worshiped the chiseled ridges of his cheekbones, the statuesque shape of his nose, the flawless design of his jawline, the freckles so artfully scattered in all the right places on his glowing skin. And his lips... _God, those lips_. Plump and pink, soft and sweet, just like the pucker of his asshole when you kissed it long and deep. So fucking sexy. You loved how you could see his sinful tongue glisten whenever it would trace along the edges of his perfectly straight, pearly white teeth. His mouth was fucking made to spit all over everything inferior to him, which was everything and everyone, of course including you. Everything about Dean Winchester was too beautiful to be true.

With a pang that you regretted on the instant, you remembered when those luscious lips used to kiss you. You had cherished every second of those sweet kisses from Dean. But you had known all along that it all felt so wrong. And now you knew that you could never touch, could never taste those lips again. Could never dream of being worthy of such a thing. You never had been, but Dean had pretended back when he was human.

_No more pretending now._ Dean was a demon. In the skin of a godly gorgeous king, an angelically beautiful man... but deep down, all demon.

He looked down at you now with such utter contempt from his sumptuous throne.

"Gonna eat your goddamned breakfast, little cunt?" he sneered, running his slick pink tongue across his smirking lips. "Master made it fresh for you this morning. It's been sitting there for hours while you slept in like a lazy fucking pig."

Your gaze remained fixated on your master's scrumptious mouth as you stupidly tried to make sense of what he had just said. _He had... he had made you breakfast? The way human Dean so often did? But why... how... that was just..._

And then your gaze shifted—you saw just what he meant, and it all made sense. On the floor at the far end of your cage, there were two metal bowls, made to hold food for pets. Bitches and mutts like yourself. One was filled with a clear yellow liquid, the other with creamy white gunk. _Holy fuck._ At the sight of them, drool promptly pooled on your hungering tongue. You lunged toward the feast that your king had so graciously set for his little pet slave, but the strap at your neck held you back, when your mouth was mere inches away. With a low, desperate moan, you rolled your head forward as far as it could go, chafing against the limits of your leash. But your feast was still just out of reach.

Dean snickered darkly as he watched you squirm with thirst. His cold, sadistic laughter was pure music to your ears, the most mortifying and most arousing sound that you could ever hear. It felt so right for your superior master to mock you as you struggled in vain against your restraints, stretching your tongue out toward his godly juices, aching for a taste.

"Thirsty little slut," he scoffed. "Maybe if you wiggle that tongue hard enough, it'll fucking fall off. Or maybe you're thinking it'll grow an inch. You really that stupid, bitch? That desperate?"

_Of course you were._ Your snout was inches away from dog bowls full of Dean's divine come and his heavenly piss. It was physically impossible for you not to be desperate.

"Can't have you losing that damn tongue just yet," your king said as he stood from his throne and sauntered toward his pet. "Not as long as my cock and my ass can still make use of it."

You sighed in pleasure at those words, soaking wet. _Please, yes_. You would've begged, but Dean hadn't given permission to speak yet.

He circled toward the back of the cage, approaching the bar to which your leash was fastened. You were panting with anticipation as the tether slowly loosened. Then, as you felt the tie come undone, you lurched forward on the instant—only to be jerked sharply backward by a dominant tug from your master, your collar biting painfully into the sensitive skin of your neck.

Dean was not going to let you have your breakfast till you'd earned it. "Beg."

_Of course. You deserved nothing less, nothing more._ You turned your head to face him, the rest of your body still bent forward, crouching on all fours. "P-please, sir..."

"Did I say you could look at me, whore?" he snapped, pulling violently on your leash as punishment, causing your limbs to scramble into a pathetic clumsy mess as you reacted to the sudden force. "I don't want to see that filthy fucking face of yours. Beg with your head on the floor."

You repositioned yourself as quickly as you could per his orders, on your knees with your face pressed to the stone surface beneath. "Master, please—"

"Dogs don't use words. Beg like the animal you are."

_Oh, fuck._ Some part of your stupid psyche hadn't been prepared for that. It turned you on, for sure, but—

"Are you my bitch or not?" Dean taunted, tugging on your leash again, in no mood to tolerate your hesitation. "Were my orders not clear enough?"

They were. With your snout still mushed into the ground, you took a deep breath, then let out a muffled _woof_.

"Can't hear you, fucking mutt."

You barked again, a loud one, followed by a feral grunt.

"That's it," Dean responded, releasing his grip on your rein just a bit. "Now drink up all that stale demon piss."

_Fuck yes_. You scurried over to the bowl brimming with golden fluid and dunked your whole jaw into it, sucking in as much as your mouth could fit, lapping and slurping up every last drop. You were used to swallowing Dean's delicious piss fresh from the tap; though you loved that, you were pleased to find the taste seemed even stronger after it'd been sitting out for hours. Bitter and sour yet so fucking sweet. And it was so much more euphorically degrading, guzzling it like this. _God, it was perfect._

Once his piss was all licked up, you pressed your lips into the bottom of the bowl in a long, sloppy kiss. It seemed appropriate, given that you had always kissed Dean's cock after you drank anything from it. The best way you knew how to thank him for the gift. At the moment, kissing this dog bowl was as close as you could get.

"Such a pathetic fucking bitch," Dean snarled, yanking back on your leash as you finished. "You want that come now? Beg for it, you dirty pig."

Still in bitch mode, you huffed out another bark as your hungry eyes locked on the bowl full of his creamy goodness.

But that wasn't what he wanted. "I said _pig_ , stupid."

_Oh._ You knew better than to waste a moment hesitating, this time. You snorted loudly like a hog rolling in mud.

Dean slackened his hold on your leash just enough to let you dive into your second feast. "Now keep making that nasty sound the whole damn time you're slurping up my come. So you won't forget that you're nothing but bottom-feeding scum."

You never would. Not when his come tasted so fucking good. You made sure to repeat those humiliating grunting sounds every few seconds as you buried your snout in your bowl, your trough, eating up every sweet gob of Dean's thick white come, gagging and gargling as you snorted into it like a goddamned pig, just as he'd commanded, never getting enough.

As you licked the bowl clean, before you could lean in to kiss the bottom of it, Dean yanked viciously on your leash, bringing you tumbling back toward the end of the cage where he stood just outside the bars, so close yet so out of reach. Your head landed with a hard thud on the floor beside his feet. Your mind reeled from the impact, but only for a second; you were already getting used to this kind of treatment. You had wanted to be abused like this for so long, after all—truly abused, with no humanity, no mercy—and this demon was finally giving you just what you craved. Blinking away your momentary haze, you gazed longingly at his sturdy brown boots, then up at his beautiful face.

You were almost sad that he hadn't let you kiss your bowl to show your gratitude for feeding on his come. But then you saw his free hand moving toward the buckle of his belt, slowly unfastening, and at the sight you also came undone. You were no longer sad about anything. There was a raging bulge in the crotch of his jeans, the stuff of dreams, and you were so fucking hungry for it you could barely breathe.

Dean grabbed his unfastened belt by the buckle to pull it through the loops in one deliberate motion, strong and smooth. He let the belt fall to the floor—he wouldn't need to keep it for later, not when there was a table nearby laid with better instruments of torture. "Bet you're dying to thank me for that breakfast. Aren't you, bitch."

Writhing on the floor as he unbuttoned his jeans, you nodded eagerly.

"Good. From this day till you fucking die, all you will eat is whatever comes out of my body."

A blissful groan escaped your throat. You wouldn't have it any other way.

"Unless..." he hissed, a villainous smirk curling up the corners of his perfect lips, "...unless I decide to let anyone else feed you, too."

Your heart stopped and your stomach dropped. _Anyone else? What..._

Dean let out a ruthless laugh. "You should see your fucking face, slut. Look up in that mirror. See how horrified you are just at the thought of that."

You turned your neck to look at your reflection overhead. _Fuck. You had never seen a creature look so terrorized and tortured._

"Scared as shit. Bet you thought there was nothing I could ever say or do that wouldn't get you soaking wet. That you would always happily do anything I want and savor every goddamned minute," Dean said as he jerked your leash upward a bit, drawing your head up from the ground, just slightly closer to his denim-clad dick, still stiff behind the fly that he'd not yet unzipped. "Think I've found your fucking limit."

It was true, even though it wasn't. There was _nothing_ that you wouldn't do for Dean. No part of you that wouldn't give him anything he wanted, and get off on giving it. And yet, ever since the fateful day that you'd first met him, the thought of sex with anyone else had become frankly disgusting. You were _his_ , all his and only his. And till this day, you'd thought he wanted you to stay that way, forever, never to be touched or used in any way by anybody else. The human Dean had always been fiercely possessive and protective of his little pet. But then again, you knew, you hadn't really been a pet to him back then. For as long as Dean was human, he had seen you as a human being, too, no matter what degrading roles you might've played, no matter how often you begged him to degrade you into a subhuman slave.

That Dean had known that all of your dirty desires were for him and him alone. And he wanted the same thing, wanted you all his own; he never would have whored you out to anyone. But now that Dean was gone.

And this new Dean, this demon taking over him, had found your fucking limit. Not because you didn't want to do whatever he might tell you to. You still would, and on some level at least, you'd still enjoy it; you still lived only to please him. But the thought of taking, let alone tasting, any other cock honestly made you want to throw up. There was no way that any other dick could ever be as delicious as his. Not even remotely close. The perfection of your master put all other men to shame—having savored and worshiped every inch of his glorious body, the idea of kneeling before anyone else to do the same... was just plain  _gross_. It felt like every chemical, every cell, inside your body was specifically designed to have an appetite for his, and no one else's. You had never been a cockslut, not really: you were solely and wholly a slut for Dean Winchester's cock.

And now this sadistic demon sought to turn you into something you were not. You'd be lying to yourself if you denied that the thought of this demonic Dean completely violating and destroying your whole being in that way was really fucking hot. But still, in spite of and because of that, it hurt. A lot. He really knew just how to break you apart, piece by piece, body and soul, to the bottom of your bleeding heart.

In the time that all these thoughts ran through your aching head, Dean had finally pulled out his cock, perfect as ever and so fucking hard.

"I know damn well this is the only cock you'll ever want, you worthless cunt," he teased, tugging your head up by the leash ever so slightly closer toward his throbbing meat. "But this was never about what you want. I'll get even more pleasure from giving you just what you don't."

You shuddered, in pleasure at the scent of his crotch as it drew closer, but more so in pain at his words. His pleasure was your only purpose. You _wanted_ to want what you didn't. But then, if you did, would it no longer please him as much, to put you through it? Did he _want_ you not to want it? You just wanted whatever Dean wanted.  _God, you were such a fucked up piece of shit._

"You are such a fucked up piece of shit," Dean said, literally reading your mind, every tortured thought running through your dumb head. "I'd feel sorry for you, if you were even worthy of pity. Maybe I should let you kiss my cock while I tell you just how I am going to fucking destroy you, turn you into the type of slut you'd never want to be. Let you worship this big demon dick while it gets so damn hard at the thought of breaking you apart."

Yes, yes you wanted that, with all your broken heart.

"Would you like that, bitch?" he sneered as your tongue started lolling out over your lips, laving up the lingering film of come leftover from your sloppy breakfast. "Yeah? Not that it matters if you like it. But knowing you do makes it that much more twisted. Here, kiss it."

At that, Dean shoved his thick cock through the space between two of the bars of your cage, using his firm grip on your rein to guide your head squarely in place. Your lips latched desperately onto the tip, sucking up the dewy dribble of his precome, moaning as you ever did at the heavenly taste. Heavenly as always, yet hot as the fires of hell, all the more so now that it belonged to a demon who was getting off on giving you the worst pain you had ever felt.

"Hmm," he hummed devilishly as you lavished wet kisses all over his cock. "Maybe tonight I'll drag my little pig out on the town and parade you around, crawling at my feet, pulling you naked on this leash just as you are now. Pimp you out to be used by whoever will take you."

You gulped, both in horror as you heard his harrowing words, and in hunger as you swallowed down another sweet drop of his precome. _This was all too twisted to be true._ Bitter tears swelled behind your eyes, but you remembered just how displeased Dean had been the last time you had cried on his dick, so you tried not to let the tears through. With all your might, you tried.

"But I don't think my slave has earned that kind of freedom. Better keep you in this dungeon. Maybe summon some company... I can think of a few hundred demons who would really like to rape this dirty mouth," he threatened as you kissed the sensitive spot just under the head of his cock, then let your lips follow his bulging veins and wander further south, "and every other filthy hole in you. And they'd cut new ones, too, the way we demons love to do."

Dread and terror rippled violently through your core, which you soon realized felt a whole lot like a climax. _No—no, it couldn't be that._ You never wanted to be _that_ kind of whore. The kind of whore who would take pleasure in _this_ kind of torture. But you were. What you wanted to be didn't matter. As your master tormented you with these terrible words, you were reveling in every minute of slavishly worshiping his throbbing dick, more than ever before.

"But maybe we should start a bit... closer to home, huh?" Dean proposed as he watched you straining through the bars of your cage to mash your lips into the base of his dick, where his scent was the strongest, his sweaty curls brushing your nose. "You know I'm not the only Winchester who's got a massive cock."

_Oh. Fuck._

Dean chuckled darkly as your eyes widened, betraying all the unshed tears that you were hiding. "You've seen what Sammy's packing. Don't pretend you haven't."

Of course you had. You'd been living with both Winchesters for years. Sure, you'd only ever been with the big brother, but Sam made no secret of the fact that he was... well, bigger. Or at least longer. Ever since the boys first got competitive about it back when they were teenagers, Dean had always had a deep hatred for rulers. _'They're one-dimensional, you skinny prick,'_ you'd overheard him argue once—the brothers never really stopped being competitive about it. _'You know what else is one-dimensional? Your whole eat-pie-kill-demons personality, little-dick,'_ Sam had shot back. Dean won that round, in your humble opinion, with:  _'Yeah, well, I don't need a fucking personality when my cock is so damn thick.'_

And it was. Dean's cock was fucking perfect. The length was just a quarter of an inch shorter than Sam's, but damn, did Dean win out on girth. You loved how it stretched you out painfully wide when you milked him for all he was worth. Now, as a demon, he was definitely bigger, but in the exact same beautiful proportions. _Fucking perfect._

You knew that Sam's was thinner and longer than his brother's—until Dean became a demon, of course—not only because of what you'd heard, but also because yes, you had seen it. Several times. Supposedly always by accident. It was... it was fine-looking, objectively speaking, even if a bit too slender for your taste. But something about the fact that it belonged to Dean's beloved little brother made it the last dick on earth you'd ever want to take. The thought just felt so wrong, like blasphemy against their sacred brotherly bond somehow. You'd rather be raped by a horde of horny demons than ever fuck the younger Winchester, you realized now.

And this demon fucking knew it. "You know all those times you laid eyes on Sam's dick? None of those were fucking accidents."

Staring up at him from beneath his thick cock as you kept on kissing it, you felt a furrow of confusion forming in your brow.

Dean flashed a wicked snicker at the sight of you so stupidly bewildered. "That's right, slut. Sammy's got a kink for doing dirty things to worthless cunts. He's way more rough and dominant in bed than the old Dean used to be, until you brought it out of me. He confessed once that he has all kinds of sick fantasies about fucking you up. I made it clear that I was never sharing you—God, human Dean was such a prude—but somehow he still had it in his head that you were nothing but a cockslut. That if you just happened to see his dick, you'd jump on it and let him fucking ruin you the way I always do. I kept telling him that it would never happen, and the devoted little slave you were, you'd always prove me right. But maybe I'll let dirty Sammy prove the old Dean wrong tonight."

_No. No. No._ You knew better than to ever say that word to your master out loud, though.

"Aw, what's the matter, little bitch?" he taunted as you shut your eyes, stubborn tears pricking at the lids. "You gonna cry? Don't want my baby brother's dick? Don't want him to take you in that bunker, bend you over on my bed and fuck you so hard you'll think he's the bigger Winchester? That he's your fucking master? What, you think that'd be some kind of insult to human Dean's sweet sacred bond with his brother?"

God, this was hell. This demon read you so damn well.

"Well, let me tell you something, whore," he growled, reaching one of his hands through the bars of your cage to grab a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back from his dick and holding it there, eyes flashing black as he forced you to meet his piercing stare. "That Dean is dead. _Nothing_ is sacred anymore."

He spat on your face through the cage, then yanked your head back down toward his dick. You resumed worshiping instantly, some small part of you wishing, for the first time ever, that you didn't love this big cock so damn much. But you did. Of course you did.

"Enough of these pathetic fucking kisses. Suck," he suddenly commanded. "And look at me, bitch. Eyes wide open and stop crying like a sappy piece of shit."

Without a moment's hesitation, you took Dean in as deep as you could go in one long stroke, feeling some chapped part of your lip busting open as your mouth gaped wide around him, not even ashamed of how you loved the feeling. Tears were clinging to your lashes, filling you with fear at what might happen if they started falling. And some part of you loved the fear, too.

"You know that Sammy's not the only one with whom the old Dean had a sacred profound bond," Dean went on, tugging on your leash now and then as you dutifully devoured his thick length, just to cause you pain and exercise his power over you. "Pretty little Castiel... well, he doesn't have the same dreams about dominating you, but he's so obsessed with me that he'd do any sex act I tell him to. If I say that seeing his feathery ass sit on my slave's face, or watching his celestial cock slamming that throat, would get me rock hard—and it would—he would smother you and fuck your little whore mouth all night long. Fuck it real good."

Somehow, as you hungrily sucked him down, the first and only thought that crossed your mind right now was that no cock could ever fuck your mouth as good as this beautiful demon could. There was something, you found, so deeply and completely therapeutic about sucking this perfect dick. It put you in a state of fucking bliss. Without even knowing what was happening, you could practically feel all your sad tears evaporating.

Dean's eyes darkened again as he watched you savor every inch of him. "Hmm. Maybe I'll take your tight ass or your soaking wet cunt from behind while Cas hammers your throat. Dirty pig stuck in an angel-demon spit-roast."

You should've been disgusted at the sound of that, or at least disgusted at the fact that you were not, but... you just _weren't._ As your aching lips stretched ever wider around Dean's delicious girth, satisfying your eternal thirst, you felt yourself filled with not only his heavenly flavor, but also with acceptance of the fact that you would truly love doing anything and everything that brought this perfect cock any measure of pleasure. Yes, you would love being ruined by hundreds of demons, by your master's favorite angel, even by his beloved little brother. If it was what this demon wanted, then yes, you wanted to be fucked, _hard_ , by all of them. Nothing was sacred to this new Dean anymore. And, to you, the only thing that would ever be sacred was him.

And it was just as this acceptance settled so peacefully over you that your master pulled his sacred cock out of your mouth all of a sudden, leaving your throat and your heart and your soul gaping open. In a daze, you met his gaze, pitch black again.

The most demonic smirk you'd ever seen danced at the corner of his lips. "Look up, bitch."

You were, of course. You were looking at him. He jerked your leash then, in a sharp upward motion, and you realized that he had meant the mirror on the ceiling. You tilted your head back, beheld your worthless self.

"See that?" Dean sneered. "That's what it looks like to be broken. To have a hole cut open in your godforsaken soul. A hole that's aching to be fucked by anyone, just like your desperate little cunt. Maybe for a minute there you thought there was a limit to just how much you would love giving me everything I want. But there never was."

You saw the truth of his words all across your filthy face in the reflection up above.

"Not that it matters if you love it. But knowing you do makes it that much more twisted," your master said as he tugged on your leash again, directing your head to look back up at him. "Yeah, it was fun playing this game, seeing you break. Wasn't it, bitch."

You blinked. _Fun? Game? So this had all been what—still just... foreplay?_

"But we both know that there was never any limit to how much you would fucking love worshiping me," Dean declared, his eyes dark and deep, demonic fingers toying dominantly with the end of your leash. "And once I'm done with you, there never will be."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're still enjoying this! Please let me know if so :)
> 
> Part 4 is, of course, going to get even more twisted. To be honest I'm kind of worried that you guys might not like certain parts of it, but hopefully at least some of you will :P Anyway, thank you all again so much for reading and commenting! <3


	12. Epilogue - Bereft (Part 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds new ways to break you. And he likes to make you bleed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for waiting patiently for this chapter <3 Sorry that updates are taking me a bit longer lately — other stuff has been keeping me busy at times, which is annoying because nothing in life could be more important than worshiping Dean am I right. But here I am staying up past 1am to post this tonight! :)
> 
> So that seriously twisted shit that I keep mentioning actually still doesn't happen yet in this chapter... I thought it would, but Demon Dean had some other ideas as I was writing this :P It will most likely happen in Part 5. And yes, it will definitely happen eventually, I promise. The stuff in this chapter is very dark and twisted, but not as seriously sick and kinky as what's coming up next, so I think/hope most of you will still like it :)

_God, it felt so damn good to be broken by Dean._ You almost wished that you had limits now, just so that you could feel him break them all. Feel him take hold of your heart and soul and rip them into bloody gaping holes. But you were sure now that the only limit you had ever had— _or thought you had, till Dean proved that you never really did_ —was being fucked by other dicks. Used by anyone other than him. That had been the only thing. Anything else that Dean could ever want to put you through, you knew, would be pure and absolute pleasure for you. You just knew.

_But maybe, just maybe_ , you thought with a thrill dark enough to kill...  _maybe Dean was so good at this game that he could somehow twist you into thinking that you had another limit. Just so he could break it._  You shuddered at just how much you would love it if he did.

He stood over you twirling your leash in his fingers as he read the thoughts in your head, dark eyes sharp and deep, penetrating your mind with the most perfect kind of power, the same power that you'd always feel pulsating through his cock whenever he would penetrate your body. That perfect cock of his was still towering tall and stiff, after all that time you'd spent kissing and sucking it, standing free from the fly that he'd unzipped although his jeans were still in place around his hips. He looked so fucking beautiful like this. But you wanted him completely naked, damn it, so that your adoring gaze could worship every inch of him. Not that it mattered what you wanted.

Dean's tongue snaked out over his pink, smirking lips. "Mmm. Look at that. You're hoping I can twist you into thinking that you've got another limit, just so I can fucking break it," he stated, seeing right through you so clearly, as if the unspoken truth had been tattooed onto your forehead. "You are such a screwed up piece of shit."

His free hand rose to his dick, wrapping the base in a strong, purposeful grip. His other hand tightened its hold on your leash. Filled with thirst and the urge to beg, to plead for the right to please him, but knowing that you weren't allowed to speak, you shut your mouth and bit your lip.

"Yeah, maybe I'll play that game again, break my little fucktoy's so-called limits just for the hell of it. When I'm in the mood for that. But not yet," Dean said as his fist slid down his shaft toward the head of his enormous dick, encircling the tip. "First this big cock is gonna break that little ass, bitch."

_Shit_ —as much as you loved the sound of that, you had wanted so badly to taste him. Again. But then again, you only ever wanted what Dean wanted. Eager to give it, you shifted, following his lead as the leash pulled you into position, standing to your feet facing away from him, arching your spine to press your ass into the wall of the cage at your back. The cold bars dug into your flesh as you pushed back as hard as you could, your hole in place between two of the bars so that Dean could take it, break it, fuck it up so good just like you knew he would.

"Mmmn," the demon behind you growled darkly, one hand pawing at your backside through the bars, the other jerking on your leash so that the back of your head banged into the cage, hard. "Look at that tight ass. Just begging to be broken in half."

It was. You were. You needed that.

"Human Dean always loved shoving his dick deep in this dirty ass," the demon recalled as his thumb teased around your aching hole, not quite dipping inside—you knew his cock wanted to be the first thing in. Needed no opener, no introduction. "Though he liked to take his sweet time, maybe use some lube to get you nice and ready for him, all slicked up. What a tender little lover boy he was. But you know what, slut?"

Through your cage, you felt his breath as he leaned close; you held your own. As if knowing what was next, your eyes fell shut.

Dean aimed his thick cock at your entrance and uttered the words just before breaking in. "The best lube is blood."

And blood there was. You screamed so loud you barely recognized the sound, as his monster cock instantly thrust in balls deep and then began to fucking  _pound_ , faster, fiercer, forcing himself in deeper, and before you knew it blood was rushing, gushing, from your brain and through your veins, bursting from your ass as it was ruthlessly torn open, vessels drained, blood like a fucking flood surging inside of you, spilling out of you and all around his weapon as he pounded you. The scent of savage sex, your blood and his sweat, overcame and overpowered you as the sounds of his arousal, of Dean growling and groaning from behind you like a fucking animal, surrounded you. Damn, he had never been so  _huge_. As he drilled into you relentlessly, your cage rattled and rocked so hard that you were shocked it hadn't yet fallen apart. You sure as hell had, into pieces. With each thrust, Dean yanked your leash so that your head kept banging back into the bars, as his other hand reached through the cage, clawed at your skin to make new scars and bruises, mark you up as his. You could just drown in all of this and die in bloody bliss. He was so fucking hot, so fucking powerful and beautiful, so fucking painfully perfect.

You weren't sure how many seconds or minutes had passed by the time Dean's thick come started flooding your ass. Your bleeding hole was all but numb, but somehow still you felt that demon come. And  _God_ , it felt like heaven and like hell. He filled you up so fucking well. Then just as he was done, with a sadistic grunt, he let go of your leash all of a sudden, and the shock of the release combined with the violent momentum from his last thrust in your ass sent you lurching forward to the floor like a limp fucking rag doll, your head slamming into the opposite wall of your cage as you fell.  _Holy heavenly hell._

He snickered cruelly at the sight of you so helpless, at how much you fucking loved it. He could tell. "Such a broken sack of shit," he hissed. "Now go crawl over to your bowl and squeeze that bloody come out of your ass, bitch. Maybe I'll let you have it for tomorrow's fucking breakfast. If you earn it like a good slave. If I even let you live another day."

_Oh God, you hoped he would._ Without a word as you got on your hands and knees to crawl across your cage, you prayed. Silently prayed to him, your god, your king, your everything. You tried to hold all of his come inside your gaping asshole as you crawled, so that every last drop could drip into your bowl. You knew that you were failing miserably, though—could feel some oozing from your crack, dribbling down your thighs. There was so fucking much of it; you couldn't keep it all inside, no matter how you tried. It wouldn't fit.

"You're fucking leaking, whore," Dean scolded. "Crawl back and suck all that come off of the floor. Then hold it in your mouth so you can bow down at your doggy dish and spit it out. Get every damn drop in that bowl, like you were told."

You turned to find the pearly drops that you had spilled, smashing your snout into the ground to do his bidding. Wished he were here inside your cage to whip your ass now, punish you for having failed him. You deserved it. Letting his godly come leak from your broken bloody hole was such a sin.

As you finally reached your bowls, you looked behind you to make sure that not a single drop remained upon the floor, indulging in one precious glimpse of his gorgeous face as you did so, then turned and bent your head down low over one of the bowls to spit out what you had collected in your mouth. The come and blood, mixed with your spit, clung to your tongue, coated your lips. You couldn't manage to get rid of all of it. As you struggled and scraped with your teeth to try and get every last bit into the bowl, as you'd been told, you heard the sound of Dean behind you zipping up his jeans, followed by the thud of boots against the floor as he passed by your cage and strode back over to his throne to sit and watch you fill your doggy dish with all his come.

"Enough of that pathetic spitting, bitch," he ordered as he took his seat. "Now look up at me. Eyes on your king as you squat down over that dish and squirt all that sweet demon juice out of your ass."

_Holy fucking shit_ , you thought as you met his glowing green gaze, which quickly flashed to black as he saw you settling shakily into position, facing him through the wall of your cage, gripping the bars for balance.  _Never in all your sorry life had you been subjected to anything so damn humiliating._  Mortifying yourself like this, in front of this barbaric demon, your beautiful king, with your eyes locked on his, it was just... it was fucking heaven.

A rush of bloodstained come had already gushed out, as soon as you had squatted down over the bowl, dripping from the gaping hole over which you now had so little control. Dean's firm stare dropped away from your face to fixate on the dish beneath your ass, watching in disdain and disgust as you filled it up.  _God, there was so damn much._ Now that he was a demon, his seed seemed to come by the gallon. Such a thing shouldn't have even been physically possible... but then again, nothing about the pure perfection of Dean Winchester had ever been. Everything about him was fucking flawless and impossibly hot.  _Now more than ever_ , you thought, now that there were no limits to the size and strength of his demonic cock. You watched in wonder as you saw it stir within his jeans, stiffen and strain against the crotch—already up for more, just moments after having spilled out all these juices, clearly aroused by the sight of his pathetic pet obeying his degrading orders, squirming in sick pleasure under his dominant watch.

You weren't sure why he'd even bothered zipping his jeans back up. But then you realized that it was purely to torture you. Every minute of every day, you longed to see Dean's cock so badly that it literally hurt whenever it was so close but hidden from view. No doubt he knew.

You silently thanked him for every second of your well-deserved torment as you followed his command. Once your bowl was filled nearly to the brim, you started squeezing, clenching and releasing your ass as well as you could manage, struggling to push out the stubborn come that still clung to your inner walls, gluey and thick, stuck in the deepest parts of you that had been broken by his dick. You strove and failed, your desperate efforts all to no avail.

"Aw, look at that. Little slut trying and failing so damn hard to give me what I want," Dean taunted with a vicious laugh, one hand rubbing against the big swelling bulge in his pants. "Ain't that just the story of your life, you worthless cunt."

_Yes, of course it was._  You knew that you were always doomed to fail your master—it was just in your nature, being such a useless and unworthy piece of scum. But you would never stop trying. Never stop living for that, until you died for it. For him.

"You are fucking disgusting, you know that?" Dean scoffed as he watched a sticky wad of come and blood drip from your ass. "Just look at that dish. Look at how you're shitting your own breakfast into it. That's what you're gonna eat if you even survive until tomorrow, bitch."

As he'd bidden, your gaze dropped to the bowl beneath your leaking hole. The only disgusting thing that you could see in it was your own blood; you cursed yourself for that, hating how the red fluid tainted Dean's heavenly juices.

"Now let's see if master wants to keep his pet alive another day," he said, sweeping a hand through his thick head of hair as he stared down at you from his throne. "Come on, slave. Haul that bloody ass out of your cage."

You blinked up at him dumbly.  _Only your king had the power and the right to free you from this prison..._  or so you had thought.

"What, you think that thing is locked?" he asked, his voice matching his eyes, mocking and dark. "Stupid cunt. The only thing holding you in is the will of your king. As if I need some lock and key to keep you trapped right where I want you. You can free yourself anytime, fling that cage door open wide. That's how well I know you won't. You never would, as long as I want you inside."

_Oh._  That made perfect sense, you realized. There was a door in this side of the cage, the side facing him, you noticed now, held shut with a latch that hadn't needed to be locked. A latch that you could lift whenever you wanted to. Whenever  _he_  wanted you to.

"That's right, slut. Now let yourself out and crawl over to me. Right here at my feet."

_Yes sir_ , you agreed wordlessly _._ You moved off of your dog bowl, clambering onto your bruised knees and reaching for the latch to let yourself free. You nudged the door, watching it open as you got on all fours, eager as ever to crawl over to him. Your unfastened leash trailed behind you like a long leather tail as you did.

"See those muddy boot stains on the floor?" Dean demanded before you had gone very far. "What are you gonna do about those, whore?"

You paused, bowing down to see that the stone floor beneath your hands and knees was streaked with mud indeed, the prints left by his heavy shoes when he had crossed the room. Dean clearly hadn't cleaned his boots today.  _Why should he have, when that task was meant for his slave._ You looked back up at him and bit your lip.

"Tell me, you pathetic little pig."

With a shudder of utter submission, you told him. "I... I want to kiss them, sir. I want to clean them with my worthless tongue. You are such a beautiful, perfect god. Please, Master, please let me worship the ground that you walk on."

"You are such filthy fucking scum," Dean sneered as you gazed up at him, your heart pounding with the utmost love and devotion. "Go ahead. Do it, cunt. Worship the dirt from my boots the way you so desperately want."

_Thank you so much, Master_ , you silently gushed as you bent your head down and began frantically kissing and licking his fucking footprints. The feel and taste of doing this should have been shameful and gross, but this was the sacred mud from Dean Winchester's boots. This was the hallowed ground that your perfect god walked on. For the moment, this was the closest you could get to tasting him, worshiping him, and that made it heaven.

Your face slid slowly forward across the floor as your lips traced the path of his feet toward his throne.

Once you were close, though, your king had another command. "Stop."

You paused and dared to look up. His gaze was not on you; it was fixated on the far side of the room. You didn't have to follow that gaze to remember what was there. The bloodstained table you'd seen earlier, laden with tools and toys, weapons and instruments of pain. Your own gaze remained locked on Dean as he surveyed the sinful collection, tongue flicking out between his teeth as if he was already savoring the taste of your destruction.

And you practically came right there and then, just at the thought of what you knew was soon to happen.

Shit was about to get serious in this sex torture dungeon.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this and that you're excited for what's coming next :) 
> 
> Thank you all again so much for your comments!! They really mean a ton to me (and they keep inspiring me to make this epilogue longer than I had thought it would be, haha), so keep them coming please <3


	13. Epilogue - Bereft (Part 5)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **HI. CHECK THE NOTES PLEASE. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED BITCHES.** (The notes are long but very important because they indicate where you can stop if you'd rather not read about... certain things.)
> 
> Shit is about to get seriously sick and twisted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***I had posted an updated note here the morning after posting this chapter about how sad and scared I was that people wouldn’t like it but then you guys made me feel so much better with your lovely comments so now I’ve deleted the self-pitying rant THANK YOUUUUU Deanbitch hugs for everyone I love you so much <3***
> 
> And please do keep the comments coming, that’s what keeps the dirty Deanbitch in me going :)
> 
> Below is the note that was originally posted with this chapter...
> 
> *********
> 
> Okay, so the first half-ish of this Part 5 is just dark and kinky and bloody and all that. But I feel like the second half requires a special warning. If you're totally turned off by what I mention next, you can rest assured that Part 6 won't have any of that stuff, so you don't have to abandon this fic just yet :) And I really hope the stuff described below doesn't ruin this whole fic for you... You can totally skip and ignore it if you want to...
> 
> Sooo, about halfway through this chapter, Dean starts talking to his bitch about the seriously sick, twisted shit that I kept saying was going to happen in this epilogue. Like, literally twisted shit. As in actual shit. Okay, there, I said it. [*Runs away in shame but not really because I don't have any shame anymore thanks to Dean Fucking Winchester.*] I know scat is just too nasty for a lot of people (myself included, other than in my dignity-destroying Deandreams), but I couldn't resist writing this because I envision Demon Dean as having no fucking limits, determined to destroy his bitch in the dirtiest and most dehumanizing ways, and he's been calling her a piece of shit forever anyway and treating her like it, so to me it seemed inevitable that he would use her as his toilet.
> 
> Also, I have to mention this super important SPN trivia tidbit: as you may know, at one point in the actual show, Dean refers to a "Cleveland Steamer" (Season 3 Episode 15). With a sexy little snicker instead of a grimace of disgust or anything. Sooo I imagine that the kinky bastard in him may have played around with this type of thing even when he was human... which means that he would be even more into it as a demon....
> 
> ANYWAY, if you're into the idea of Dean shitting on his bitch or at least open-minded to it (it wouldn't be the first time this fic has turned readers on to new kinks!), then that's awesome. But if you want to skip the shit, I tooootally get it. To do that, just stop reading once you reach the words: "But that wasn't all". And then you can pick up at the start of Part 6 once it's posted, and it'll be as if shit never happened. You're welcome :)

Your time in this sex torture dungeon so far had not been torturous enough. Sure, Dean had ravaged you dirty and bloody and rough, but now you needed him to _really_ fuck you up. You desperately needed to be destroyed, just the way you deserved, by the gorgeous god whom you lived to worship and to serve.

Still kneeling before him on all fours, you gazed up at your king in pure rapture, your face hovering barely an inch above the filthy floor. You watched as his dark, glowing eyes scanned the table across the room, taking stock of all his instruments of torture. He licked his lips, pink flesh glistening as his luscious tongue slowly glossed over it. His bare chest, so perfectly sculpted and slicked with a glimmer of sweat, rose and fell rhythmically to the beat of his breath, taking yours. He was truly too breathtakingly beautiful for words. You had always known it, but never more so than in this moment. Never more so than now, as he sat so majestically upon his throne, contemplating just how he was going to tear you down.

Back when he'd been human and the two of you had bonded over deep shit pretty often, opening up about every possible emotion in a way you knew he'd never done with anybody else, Dean had dared to tell you all about his time in hell. You remembered well. You remembered the one tear that always fell, the lonely drop that spilled before the others did, the way it tasted as you kissed it, full of salt and self-hatred. More tears would follow, the more he told. You knew how much he loathed himself, not just for what he'd done during his last decade down in the fiery pit, but worse yet, for how he had truly felt about it. For the fact that some deep part of him had never felt more in his element, standing before his vulnerable victims on the rack inflicting endless pain and torment, his damaged soul descending into evil and enjoying every second of those ten years that he'd spent.

For all his sins in hell, Dean would never forgive himself. It was a wonder, really, that he had ever let himself indulge in so many of your dark, twisted fantasies, playing the role of the sadistic master that you longed for him to be. He had probably told himself it was supposed to be cathartic. Maybe some sick form of therapy. And because you were so fucked up, it had really always been an act of kindness, charity in granting what you wanted—he must have reassured himself that he'd been doing it for you. It was true. On some level, at least. But whatever it had been, there was no denying that it had always triggered his most traumatic memories, unleashed his inner beast.

And now that beast had been released. Dean had struggled for so many years to bury it, to run from it. But now he had become it. Become a demon who got off on dominating, degrading, and downright destroying his pathetic little plaything without any limits. The righteous man you loved would have hated to see himself like this; although that sad thought broke your heart, you couldn't bring yourself to hate this. Not even for a minute. You'd be lying through your teeth if you didn't admit how much you fucking loved it.

When Dean's gaze finally shifted from the table, dropping to stare down at you where you knelt at his feet, the look in his smoldering eyes was so fierce that you feared you might melt from the heat. It would be a privilege to die that way, you knew. But only if he wanted you to. Your mouth watered as ever at the sight of your delicious master and at the thought of dying in whatever way he desired.

"You're fucking drooling, you pathetic piece of shit," Dean chided as he saw a pool of spit spill from your lip. "Panting with your tongue out like a goddamned mutt. What, so thirsty for me you can't keep that dirty mouth shut?"

You pulled your tongue back in your mouth and bit it hard, almost hard enough to draw blood. But not quite. It was your master's right to make you bleed, not yours. You had no rights; you were nothing but his subhuman whore. His fucktoy. Every part of you was his to destroy. You dared not risk damaging your tongue if there was any chance that he still wanted to make use of it on his cock or his ass or his feet or any other part of his glorious body. You hoped and prayed that he still wanted that. From the bottom of your bleeding heart, you hoped, gazing up at your god as you silently prayed.

"I'm sick of looking at your desperate, filthy face. Turn around and crawl over to that table, slave," he ordered, watching as you hastened to do his bidding, powerless to do anything other than obey. "Kneel at the edge and fetch one of those toys for me."

Once you'd reached the table, you shifted your weight back onto your knees, lifting yourself a bit to rest your hands against the edge. Biting your lip, you stared in silence at the demon's toy collection spread before you, yearning to feel the sting of all of them, wielded by your king, upon your worthless skin. But, for now, he wanted you to choose just one. Within seconds, your wide eyes settled on a sinister flogger that was different from the others. Each one boasted strips of black leather in various lengths, some twisted or braided, others sleek and straight... but this one in particular was laced with what looked like barbed wire, sharp spikes sticking out at every possible angle, each thorn promising a world of hurt. The sight sent a shudder of longing for pain down your spine, and the feeling was fucking divine. Your beloved king could rip you into shreds with this thing. Thirsting for nothing more than that, eager to grab the brutal instrument, you moved one of your hands off of the table's edge—

"No hands, bitch. I said  _fetch_ ," Dean snapped, his words instantly staying your hand and causing your jaw to drop open, so that you could wrap your mouth around the handle of the weapon that you'd chosen. "Like the dog you are and always will be. That's it, pick that shit up with your fucking teeth."

With the flogger's grip firmly lodged between your lips, you fell onto all fours to crawl back over to your flawless master. Anxious to please and obey him in all ways, as always, you made sure to keep your head bowed low so that he wouldn't have to look at your unworthy face.

Dean reached down to grab a fistful of your filthy hair as you approached the foot of his throne, dragging your face in toward his crotch, glaring down at you as he tilted your head back to look up at him. Then his other hand came down on one of your cheeks with a sharp little slap. "Drop it into my lap."

You unclenched your mouth to let the toy fall out, watching spellbound as it landed by the ever-growing erection still hidden beneath his jeans. Dean kept one hand twined in your hair as the other stroked the handle of the weapon that you'd fetched for him.

"Little pig picked up a flogger," he observed, studying the thing with hungry eyes, which he then locked on yours. "You like it when I beat the shit out of you, whore? Like worshiping me while I whip you till you scream, seeing me rock hard taking pleasure in your torture? Yeah, that's what you fucking live for."

Your unblinking gaze confirmed. _Yes, sir. Of course._

"Hmm, see this one's got a little... bite to it," Dean remarked, running his fingers playfully across the prickly barbs, watching you quiver with arousal as he did. "Bet you noticed when you chose it. Ain't that right, bitch. Want me to cut your worthless body into pieces? Yeah, you like this? Here, give it a kiss." 

 _Oh God, fuck yes._ You puckered your lips as your demon king dangled the flogger in front of your face. You weren't sure if he wanted your mouth to get ripped up just yet, so the kisses that you pressed into the barbed wire were cautious and soft, nonetheless passionate and wet. The sharp points scraped against your chapped lips, scratching at the inner lining of your mouth's opening. You savored the sensation of worshiping the weapon that your king would soon be using to slit up your fucking skin.

"Pathetic little slut. Now open your mouth. Tongue out," he commanded, grazing the spiked weapon against the spit-slick slab of flesh that you stuck out for him, his skillful hand moving with such a light touch as to not even spill any blood.  "Mmm. I could just slash this dirty tongue right up. But lucky for you, bitch, I've still got some other uses for it."

As your heart swelled up with gratitude and bliss, your gaze lowered to ogle the beautiful bulge of his denim-sheathed dick. You felt gobs of drool drip from your tongue at the sight of it. More excruciating than any torture that a weapon could inflict was the agony of having your master's incredible cock so damn close to your face, without being able to see or to taste. And Dean knew it. He always knew how to torment his little pet by denying you exactly what you wanted. But really, you only ever wanted what he wanted; you _wanted_ the torment of being denied what you craved, because you were fucked up that way. A fucked up piece of shit.

"Look at you, slobbering like mad as you gawk at my dick. Greedy pig need something to lick? Why don't you lick my filthy boots before I kick them off into your fucking face, bitch," he offered, raising one of his feet from the floor, smirking as you immediately smushed your snout into the soiled sole and set to work. "Yeah, that's it. Use that worthless mouth to scrub off all the scum and filth. The bugs I crush beneath this shoe are all worth more than you."

You knew that it was true. At least each insect was an entity with its own body, its own place in the world, its own identity. Whereas you had none of those things. Everything you ever might've been had been squished into nothing. Your heart and soul were gaping holes just begging to be ruined, over and over again, and your body was an empty plaything for your perfect king. Every fiber of your broken being belonged wholly to him. And you were so thankful for the sacred privilege of being his. Beyond that, you didn't exist.

Once you had thoroughly licked every last inch of both of his boots, Dean kicked them off into your face, just as he'd said he would. _God, that felt good._ But not as good as the sensation of suddenly being suffocated by his sweat-soaked socks as he stomped you down into the ground, shoving one of his feet against your nose, the other smothering your tongue, invading your open mouth with his toes. You let out a stifled moan of bliss, convinced that this was heaven. Your lungs were flooded with your master's rich, intoxicating essence and you relished every second, sucking in the salty flavor and the musky scent, savoring the subjugation of the moment, fucking surviving on it, not wanting to breathe oxygen or anything else ever again.

"Know how much you love this, you sick little bitch," Dean snickered down at you. "Smells like fucking heaven, don't it? Now I'm gonna let you strip these socks off with your teeth and stuff them in your mouth. Suck all the sweat out."

You groaned in ecstasy as you hungrily did as he'd bid, so goddamned grateful to him for this gift. The old Dean had always been kind of grossed out when you'd begged him to let you do this. It was so fucking precious, you remembered for a heartbreaking split second, how even though human Dean had indulged in so many of your intense kinks, still he’d had all these weird little limits. In some quirky way, you'd loved him even more for it. _He had been so adorable, goddamn it._

But now this new Dean was the absolute opposite. No matter how much you adored this demon—and you did, to hell and back you did—it was a deeply different kind of adoration. There was nothing remotely precious or adorable about him. He truly had no limits. And in every way, you loved him even more for it.

As you nibbled and gnawed at the damp cloth to tug off his socks, you couldn't help but pause to press your lips into each beautiful inch of bare skin that was exposed throughout the process. _Dean Winchester's feet were just made to be kissed. Especially when they were so hot and sweaty like this._ But that slowed down your progress, and you should've known that your king had no patience.

"Dumb cunt," he rasped as he tangled a hand in your hair, hauling your head up toward the seat of his throne, spreading his thighs a bit to fit your face between them, smashing your snout into his crotch and forcefully holding it there. "Slow as fuck. That how you serve your master? Taking forever just to follow an order? Maybe this little pig needs some prodding to start moving faster."

Through his jeans, Dean's bulging dick was prodding at your cheek and _God_ , you thought, that throbbing piece of meat was all the motivation you would ever need. You were so completely captivated by the closeness of his cock in this moment that you had almost forgotten about the weapon he was holding.

He reminded you then, with a sudden pang of the sharpest physical pain that you had ever felt, a sting that you knew you would _never_ forget. One lash from this flogger was enough to fucking cut you up. The barbed wire had caught at the flesh of your back, slicing off little pieces of skin that you wouldn't be needing, not if Dean thought that you didn't deserve to keep them. In pleasured pain, you screamed and cringed; after just one hit, you were already profusely bleeding. _Holy shit._

Your demonic king huffed out a cruel, humiliating laugh that hurt far worse than any weapon ever could. You almost wished it didn't feel so good. Almost. But not really—no, not even close.

"Mmmn, that's it, fucking scream for me, bitch. Bleed for me," he snarled as he brought the flogger down against your shredded skin again. "You know that I own every last drop of blood in your body."

Incapacitated at this point in a euphoric state of agony, your head fell limply into his lap. Hating yourself for being unable to finish your task, you trembled as you felt Dean's free hand reach down toward his feet, pulling off his socks to do the job that his useless slave couldn't complete. With a feral growl, he bared his teeth and briefly held the handle of the flogger in his mouth then, so that he could use both hands to pry your jaw wide open, balling up both socks in one fist and pushing them violently past your lips. "Suck on this, you desperate piece of shit."

You did, gazing up through half-lidded eyes at his beautiful face, your consciousness caught in a lightheaded haze. The taste of his sweat, as your tongue and teeth strove to squeeze every last drop from the damp cloth lodged deep in your mouth, really didn't help you to recover from this daze. It was fucking divine as always.

So was the feeling of your king suddenly yanking his socks out of your mouth, sopping wet with your saliva now, and putting the slobbery wad of cloth to use, rubbing it all over your filthy face, which of course was still covered in mud and grime from your time worshiping his boots. "So damn dirty," Dean grunted as he raised one hand to remove the handle of the flogger from his mouth, the other hand still washing you while he spat on your forehead to supply more juice. "Feel like I'm gonna catch a disease just from looking at you. Disgusting piece of bottom-feeding scum. Wanna thank me for getting you all cleaned up?"

You tried to bob your head in a nod, but you couldn't manage much.

"Is that a yes? Can't even move your stupid head," Dean scoffed as he finished mopping up your face and tossed his socks onto the floor. "Use your words then. Tell me how you're gonna thank me, whore."

You swallowed, tongue slick with a film of his sweat, soaked in it yet parched from the salt, as you struggled to summon your voice to your throat. Through all the violence and silence that you'd endured, it almost felt as if you'd lost your voice forever. But you hadn't. Not yet. "How—" your words spluttered out through a choked cough, "...however you want."

Your merciless master smirked down at you. "Damn straight, you sad little cunt."

And then he resumed flogging you, and for a hot minute it felt like you were drowning in your own blood.

"What I want," he said as his spiked weapon slashed at your tattered skin over and over again, "is to destroy my pathetic, worthless, filthy little fucktoy. Because making you break and bleed and suffer through the most excruciating pain, the most humiliating torture, that anyone could ever fucking imagine, gets my dick so damn hard. What I want is to punish you—not for anything you've done, or failed to do, but just for being what you are."

Each lash kept on cutting the flesh from your back as his words cut deep into your heart.

“This is why you will always deserve nothing but pain and punishment from your master. Your god. Your king," he declared like it was the most obvious truth in the world. _Because it was. It had always been._ "You even just existing is a fucking sin. A waste of oxygen. You’re a living piece of shit crawling around in the skin of a slut, pretending to be human.”

As Dean dished out the cruel verbal and physical abuse that you so utterly deserved, your face was still mashed up against his crotch, your mouth twitching with thirst, and you wished your teeth could tear right through his jeans so that your tongue could start devouring his cock. You weren't even aware that any part of you was still pretending to be human. But that was what your king had told you, so of course then it was true. He knew you better than you knew yourself because he fucking owned you.

"Time to quit pretending, bitch," Dean snapped as he slashed at the small of your back, the scarred patch of skin where you now remembered you'd once had an anti-possession tattoo, till the fateful day that dirty-minded demon had burned off the ink to force herself inside you. _The best damn day of all your worthless life. The blessed day that you at last fell into your place as your beloved master's slave, entirely and eternally._ "Yeah, you don't even know it, but deep down you're still clinging desperately onto some scrappy delusions of dignity. Some false sense of humanity."

 _So fucked up_ , you thought with a stab of self-pity. You didn't deserve to be clinging onto anything; you didn't want to be. You didn't want to cling to anything but him, your godly gorgeous king.

"And I think," he said as the flogger's relentless assault finally came to a halt, "I know just how to flush it out."

 _God, he was so good to you_ —giving you just what you deserved and needed, putting you in your place always, never more powerfully than here and now. You loved him so damn much. Yearned for nothing more than to show him how much. You just wished you knew how.

Dean cast his weapon to the ground and you suddenly felt him shifting, standing from his throne. Your limp head leaned back of its own accord, tilting upward, awestruck as ever as you beheld him in all his perfection. Your heart stopped beating as his hands rose and slowly began to unbutton and unzip his jeans. It was a simple thing, something that you had watched him do so often. But in this instant, your aching desire for Dean deeper and fiercer than it'd ever been, it was the hottest fucking thing you'd ever seen.

"You know how the old Dean had some stupid little limits?" the demon reminded you as his thumb, in a diabolically deliberate motion, dislodged the button from its denim hole. "It was so goddamned cute how he held onto them. And how you tried to honor them. But then sometimes you just couldn't resist being a naughty fucking bitch. Yeah, I knew all about it. Sammy told me once about your dirty little secret."

 _Oh, fuck—what could he possibly mean...?_ You had never kept many secrets from Dean. And definitely nothing involving his brother.

"Human Dean always got weird about your kink for sucking sweaty socks. You must've thought that made no sense, when he indulged in other kinks that were way more intense. But you know what? He didn't really care about the socks. What freaked him out was something else," your master said, taking his zipper in a firm grip between thumb and forefinger. "The other, dirtier thing you always hungered for."

Your eyes glimpsed the white cloth behind his fly as he unzipped it. And you realized then exactly what he meant.

"Always knew that once he let you eat his socks, you would never stop begging to suck on these, too," Dean teased, tucking one of his thumbs under the band of his boxer briefs. "Unwashed, of course. Fucking soaking in sweat from this big cock, these heavy balls. That much he could live with. But that wasn't all."

 _No, it wasn't._ You gulped loudly, mesmerized as you watched him finally start pulling down his jeans. He purposefully left his underwear in place around his hips while he let the pants fall.

"You wanted them dirty. _Real_ dirty," he stated, truthfully. _Completely truthfully._ "And back when I was human, we both knew that was my hardest goddamned limit. It made me sick to even think of it. To think of how my filthy little bitch had always wanted, more than anything, to taste my fucking shit."

You were pretty sure that your pathetic little pussy came right when he said it. _Yes, you wanted that. You really did. You always had._

"Fuck, look at that. Even just hearing me say it gets you dripping wet," he snickered, reaching down to grab your hair in both his hands and claim control over your lolling head. "Yeah, Sammy told me your naughty secret. How you went scrounging in my dirty laundry every time I left the bunker without you. He caught you once rubbing your filthy cunt as you sucked on my sweaty socks, underwear smushed into your nose so you could sniff my shitty skid marks. He was so damn disgusted."

You should've felt humiliated, but subhuman scum had no place feeling such a thing.

Dean pulled your head in closer to his crotch, close enough to smell but not to touch, smirking wickedly as you watched his cock stiffen and enlarge beneath the sweaty cloth, even when it was already so damn huge and raging hard. "You know, one time, the boys and I got drunk," he teasingly reminisced, "Sam told me and Cas what he saw. And we all laughed for hours about how pathetic you are."

A shameful pang coursed through your veins. _Shit—so apparently some part of you was still able to feel humiliation. Still believed that you were human._  Your master had been right about that after all, of course; he would always be right about everything. Especially the things that were so wrong.

"And now that I'm a fucking demon," Dean began, eyes flashing black as his lips spread into a sinful grin, "I can finally give you what you want. You desperate little cunt."

At that, he yanked your face in toward the sacred cradle of his manhood, smashing your snout into his nutsack, your mouth open to savor the sweat as his throbbing cock pressed hard against your forehead, and you felt yourself go faint from the feel and the scent and the taste, your breath instantly catching and releasing in a piggish grunt. _God, this was too much. Yet not enough_ _—what you really wanted was further back_ _..._

"Take these off with your teeth," Dean suddenly commanded, dragging your face up a bit until your lips brushed up against the damp elastic band. "This time you better do it quick, you filthy pig. Don't get all distracted like you did with my feet."

More eager than ever to obey your perfect master, you bit down hard on the cloth and tugged with all your might to fucking tear it off. You could feel yourself degenerate into an absolute animal as you gnawed and gnashed, thrashing your head around so wildly that you lost hold of your already weak grip on reality. By the time consciousness had returned to your head, you blinked to see that Dean's boxer briefs had sort of been torn up into shreds. His massive cock and meaty balls were finally bare; all you could do was fucking stare. _You had never felt more alive. You had never felt more dead._

"Damn. Bitch tore this up so hard now you can't even find the shit stains that I left for you to clean," Dean sneered, stepping out of the jeans that had bunched at his feet, kicking them off to the side as he ripped off what remained of his underwear, brushing away pieces that had gotten stuck in his thick thatch of hair. Then he stood still for a second, smirking down at how hypnotized you were by the heavenly sight of him naked. "Know how much you love this view. But you love the rear view even more, you dirty whore. Don't you."

You never really wanted to have to choose—but in this moment, for the desperate dirty dog that you'd deteriorated into, it was definitely true. And you couldn't believe how damn lucky you were as Dean turned around to give you that divine view. _Holy fucking mother of goddamn fucking holy shit._ Dean Winchester's perfect ass had never looked so perfectly delicious.

"This ass will always be your fucking favorite thing to worship. Won't it, bitch," he taunted, glancing back over his shoulder as he bent slightly forward, watching as your face lunged toward his crack, drawn to it as if by the very force of gravity itself, but knowing better than to dive inside just yet. Not till he allowed it. "The dirtiest part of this body you love so damn much. Want to taste some dirty demon ass? That what you want, slut?"

You nodded and groaned, loud, and your tongue felt like it was going to fall out of your mouth.

"So fucking pathetic," your king imperiously snorted. "Shove your filthy face in there and sniff. No tongue till you've earned it."

 _God, yes._ Sniffing your master's ass was always such a gift. You had no idea how God had ever let a man's ass smell like that. Ass was supposed to smell _bad_ , damnit. But not this one. No, this one smelled like literal heaven. Like heaven on steroids or something. Tainted in the tastiest way with the essence of hell, now that he was a demon. _Fuck. Yum._

“Yeah, breathe in all that demon shit, you filthy fucking bitch," he grunted as he reached one of his hands back, taking your head in a firm grasp, pushing it deep into his sweaty crack. Then he began to rub it up and down and all around as if your nose and mouth were wads of fucking toilet paper. Because, yes, to him, they were. You felt every cell of your body burning up in a state of smothered, suffocated bliss.  _Holy shit. Literally holy shit_.

"Mmm. Remember that time years ago when I blasted gas right in your mouth while you were licking up my ass? How I acted all embarrassed and apologized as if it was some accident?" he asked, laughing as you tried to answer yes while your entire face was buried in his ass. "The old Dean was so precious. That was no accident. I let one rip because I wanted to release my toxic stink all over your pathetic face. We both knew you deserved it. And you fucking loved it.”

You did. You wanted him to do it again, more than anything. Instead of granting you that gift, Dean suddenly pulled your face out of his crack and changed position, turning to face you as he took a seat in his throne. His hand remained twined in your hair, and he scooted his ass forward in his chair and spread his legs so that his hole was open to the air. You knelt before him, begging silently with wide eyes for the privilege to shove your face back in there. He didn't let you yet. Wrapped his free hand around his perfect cock and started stroking it as he continued talking down at you, his worthless little pet.

“And remember how you'd always beg to suck this dick when I was sitting on the toilet? How you wanted me to fuck your whore throat while I took a shit, then drag your head into my crack and use your face to wipe my ass? And I refused because it was—what was that word I used—'unsanitary'? That was real cute of me, wasn’t it," Dean snickered as his fist pumped up and down his thick, pulsating shaft, staring down at you as your gaze flitted back and forth between his gorgeous cock and his glorious ass. "As if I would care if you got sick from slurping my shit. You’re already sick. That demon bitch already said just what you wanted, when she spilled out all your secrets. How you want to be my toilet. No, not just my pretty little urinal like you've already been for years. My fucking  _toilet_. If you had what you wished, your head would be stuck permanently underneath my dirty toilet seat. Wouldn't it, bitch. Your whole life would be drinking my piss and eating my shit until you fucking drown in it.”

 _Holy absolute shit._ Dean was reading your mind and it felt seriously divine.

"You know the real reason I never played along with that kink, back when I was human? It wasn't just because you might get sick. It was because I knew that there's no turning back from eating shit," he stated as he pulled your head in closer to his crack and mashed your snout into his ass. "It's as low as anyone can fucking go. I always knew that if I took a shit right in your mouth, just like you wanted, then I would be sealing your fate as a subhuman toilet. I could never look at you as a human being, never pretend to love you again. And damn did the old Dean love to pretend."

He did, you knew. Human Dean had been so good at pretending that he loved you. But now, with this new Dean, this demon, there would be no more pretending. Your master, your god, your king, was here to give you the real thing. To give you everything.

"No more pretending, you pathetic dirty pig," he snarled as he smeared your mouth and nose all over his sweaty shithole. "No one could ever love a piece of scum like you. I never did and never will."

Those words cut deep enough to kill, but somehow you survived, because you knew now that your master was about to let you serve the purpose that you'd longed for all your life.

"We both know you were born to be my toilet. Tongue out, bitch. Lick," he commanded, and your body and soul exploded at the words he spoke next. "And beg for my shit."

Your voice was no longer yours to control. As your hungry tongue plunged deep inside his ass, you pulled it out every few seconds to worship it with kisses and to let these desperate words just spill out freely from your filthy fucking facehole. " _Fuck_ —yes, sir, thank you. I love you. I love you so much. Please, please, _please_ shit on my face. Please fill this pathetic mouth up with your holy fucking shit. Please, master, please let me suck all the shit out of your perfect ass. I am your fucking toilet. I live to eat your shit. I want to die from it. You are so perfect. I love you, sir. Thank you so much for letting me lick your sweet, beautiful asshole. Please, please feed me your delicious shit. I need it more than anything I've ever fucking needed. Please, my king, please let me worship you by eating all the shit out of your ass like I was born to do. You are a perfect god and I am your pathetic fucking toilet. Please shit all over me. _Please_. I love you."

You could go on like this forever, really. But you wanted Dean to shut you the fuck up already. With a big steaming mouthful of his godly shit. _You had never wanted anything in all your life so badly, damnit._

And he knew it, and he looked down at you now like the most inferior thing he'd ever seen, which was exactly what you were, and it was perfect. " _God_ , you disgusting little slut. You're even more pathetic than I thought. And that's saying a whole fucking lot," he scoffed as he let go of his cock to put both of his big hands on the back of your head, smushing your filthy face into his ass and leaning down to spit a few times on your forehead. "Now shut up and suck my ass. I've got a big shit brewing but don't know if you deserve it yet."

You didn't, and you never would. There was no way you could ever be worthy of such a sweet gift. But still you prayed your god would give it.

Dean resumed jerking himself off with one hand while he used the other to continue treating you like toilet paper, swiping every inch of your face across the sacred crevice of his ass. "You know, years ago I knew this cute blonde chick who had a massive crush on me. She played hard-to-get for a while. Tried to resist me, like she had any chance. Then as soon as I finally got in her pants, she wouldn't stop gushing about how fucking hot I was, how much she loved me, how she'd always had this fantasy of me taking a shit right on her chest."

 _Oh._ You weren't sure where this story was going, but your sorry heart sank at the thought that you might not be the first girl to ever eat shit out of Dean Winchester's ass. If anyone else had ever been his toilet first, that made you really fucking sad. And jealous. You began kissing and sucking his delicious ass with more passion than ever, hoping and praying that no one else had ever worshiped it as well as this.

Your king went on. "I refused, at first—you know, the old Dean, prude and precious—but she kept reminding me that it was probably going to be our last night on earth. Wanted it so bad she said she'd pay me for it. Started begging for my shit, moaning for me to take my cock and rub it all over her tits. Give her a Cleveland steamer, as they say. Guess the money didn't mean much when it was supposed to be our last night alive, but hell, I took it anyway. Best hundred bucks I ever made. And I could tell she was just aching for a taste. Wanted so bad to suck all the shit off my dick after I steamrolled her tits. But she didn't. You know why?" he paused to pull your head out of his crack, then spat in your mouth and smacked you hard across the cheek before shoving your face back in. "Because she had this funny thing called self-respect. Almost kept her from fucking me at all, when I first asked, but knocking back a few more beers took care of that. Little Jo would've done anything for me—hell, she died for me the day right after that, it was so fucking sad—and yet she couldn't bring herself to eat my shit. To be my fucking toilet."

You were relieved, at that. Happy. You would be your master's first and only toilet, just the way you'd always wanted. But then you realized that those sensations were emotions. And that was wrong. You couldn't even hate yourself for just how wrong it was. For you, every human feeling was a sin, one that you had no place committing. You had no right to feel anything, other than love for your king, the subhuman love that made up your entire fucking being.

As always, Dean read every thought in your head and knew just how best to rub in the brutal truth of what he knew. "Now look at you, bitch. Sweet Jo had a thing about my shit, that kinky slut, but she was still a human being. Unlike you. All you've ever been is a bottom-feeding, shit-eating pig. You are nothing but my filthy personal toilet and you fucking love it."

You did. _God, did this mean that Dean was finally about to let you eat his shit...?_

"Open up, slut," he ordered, smirking devilishly as you dropped your jaw and placed your gaping mouth in position right under his perfect pink pucker, as you watched the sphincter squeezing and releasing in a sinful way that promised everything you'd ever wanted. "You ready to become a fucking demon's toilet? Is this what you live for, bitch?"

Dean didn't want you to answer with words. Didn't need you to tell him. He wanted you to show him, and you knew it.

So you did.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay bitches, if you read and enjoyed any part of this chapter — with or without the shit — PLEASE please please let me know in the comments!!! The shameless Deanslut in me would really really really appreciate it :) 
> 
> Again, Part 6 will be totally shit-free. But it will probably be the darkest chapter yet and, most likely, the finale! Thank you again for following this filthy journey and I love you all so much <3


	14. Epilogue - Bereft (Part 6) [Version 1]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ** NOTE: VERSION 1 OF THIS PART 6 IS SCAT-FREE. VERSION 2 IS SCATTY. READ WHICHEVER YOU PREFER AND READ THE NOTES, PLEASE :) **
> 
> Dean breaks you where it hurts most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiii so here is Part 6! First things first: this is actually not the finale (I know, will this fic ever end?!?), but I'm pretty sure that Part 7 will be. 
> 
> Also importantly: as noted in the summary, there are two versions of this Part 6. I was so happy (and surprised, in the best way!) to see that some of you enjoyed Dean shitting on his bitch in the last chapter, so I've decided to write a version that has more of that :) But I also got some very intense hate for it, which I sort of expected. Though I didn't expect the insult to extend to my readers. That pissed me off a lot because I love you guys and none of you deserve that. So I just want to be clear: **for those who do not want to read about shit-eating, please do not read Version 2!** If you want to read it just so that you can insult me for it, go right ahead, if that's how you get your kicks. But if you intend to insult my other readers, then please kindly fuck off. Thanks :)
> 
> This Version 1 is filtered to be scat-free. If you'd prefer to read a version that includes shit-eating, just skip on to Version 2! You can read both, if you want to, but they're very repetitive. The main difference is that references to any shit-eating have been removed here or replaced with other words, and the scat scene has been swapped out for a shorter bit in which Dean's bitch is just worshiping his dick.
> 
> On a separate note — I also want to warn that this Part 6 is more emotionally abusive than previous chapters. Demon Dean wants to break his bitch where it hurts, and she's so deeply in love with him that she is very vulnerable to anything he says to her. *Whether or not it's true.* So if you're up for reading this kind of thing, please just keep that in mind and be prepared for Dean's bitch to go through some heartbreaking and humiliating abuse, but please don't let it actually hurt you. Thank you! <3

You could really, truly die happy now. You had become Dean Winchester's complete and utter bitch in every way: his submissive slave, his subhuman pet, his desperate little fucktoy slut. For days now—maybe weeks, or months; you were too blissed out to keep count—you had been kept here in his dungeon, living only to serve and worship him. He fucked you hard in whatever hole he wanted, whenever he wanted, and he wanted it often. He made you cry and scream and bleed for him. He broke you, body and mind, heart and soul, over and over again, even when nothing remained to be broken. He used every instrument of torture that he owned, and sometimes he brought new ones home. His massive monster cock was still his favorite weapon to wield on you, though. His and your favorite both. And all the while you survived on nothing but the glorious gifts that he deigned to feed you from his gorgeous body: his come, his piss, his sweat, his spit. You were just a hole for him to dump all of it. And you savored every drop and every bit. Often from your dog bowls, but sometimes fresh from the source, when you deserved it. It was perfect.

Normally, you knew, no human being would be able to sustain life for very long on such a diet, eating and drinking only what came out of another. And no human slave would be able to stay alive for very long through so much bloody torture from such a merciless master. But neither you nor Dean were human beings: you were a pathetic worthless plaything, and he was a godly demon king. You could go on like this forever, and one way or another, maybe owing to supernatural forces of some sort, you would always find ways to recover, to wake up the next day ready and eager for more, because no amount of time would ever be enough to fulfill the roles that you were fated for. Ever. What you saw whenever you looked up in the mirror on the ceiling of your torture chamber might have looked like a dead, empty shell of yourself, rotting away in the dark depths of hell—but on the inside, you knew that this dungeon was your heaven, and that your days here were the only time that you had ever truly been alive.

You were so damn grateful for every minute that Dean hadn't decided to get rid of you yet. That he still derived pleasure from using and abusing you like this. With each passing day, you feared that he might finally get bored and throw you away. There were no new kinks to explore at this point, no new games to play. Both of you knew that you had no more limits for him to break; he had once threatened to twist you into thinking that you had some, just so that he could break them. But so far, ever since he had broken your first limit, your resistance against being used by other men, that hadn't yet happened again. Part of you wondered if he ever would, and when. And you wondered why he hadn't yet invited anyone else into the dungeon. He was supposed to summon hundreds of demons to rape you, or give you over to Sam, or spit-roast you along with Cas. But so far, none of that had come to pass.

You lay in your cage wondering about this one morning. _Was he waiting for you to beg for it or something?_ You never would, you knew; Dean may have broken through the limit you once thought you had about this kind of thing, but still, you would only be a desperate cockslut if and when he commanded you to. You only ever wanted him. You would only want to please other men for the purpose of pleasing your supreme god, your sovereign king.

All of your thoughts came to a halt when the door swung open and he walked in. That was what always happened. Every morning, you laid eyes on the perfection of Dean Winchester as if for the first time, and your heart and mind stood still as you fell deeply, completely in love with him all over again.

He was already naked this time when he entered. You loved it when he didn't bother with clothes; a body so beautiful had no business being covered. Your eyes soaked in the stunning sight of your master for a second before you sank into your subservient position as his whore, kneeling in your cage facing his throne, on all fours with your head bowed low and face pressed to the floor.

"Look at me, bitch," Dean demanded as he sat down in his throne, reclining deeply in the luxurious seat with his legs spread and his ass sticking out over the edge. One hand rose to his stiffening cock and began stroking deliberately, base to head. "Maybe today I'll let you have your breakfast straight out of this big dick. Want to see you beg for it."

Already drooling like mad as you raised your head to gaze at his magnificent ass and incredible dick, you let out a few loud barks and growls, followed by a series of snorts and grunts, knowing that he wanted you to beg like a dog and a pig. Sometimes he let you use your words, but this morning you weren't going to be that lucky.

Your king stared down at you with such contempt, his flawless face glowing with power and superiority. "Crawl over to me and kiss my feet. Dirty little doggy's gotta earn her treat."

Your cunt dripping with arousal and desire for your master, you nudged your cage door open and crawled desperately toward him. As you arrived, you pressed your pathetic lips into each of his perfect feet, savoring the flavor of his sweat, salty and sweet.

After a few minutes of that, Dean reached down to haul your head up to the space between his thighs, watching as you worshiped his crotch with your wide, hungry eyes, jaw hanging open as you breathed in the hot scent of his balls and his butt, panting like a goddamned mutt. "Now kiss this cock you love so much, you good-for-nothing slut."

Obeying instantly, you wrapped your lips around the glistening head of his godlike cock and kissed so hard it felt like your lips might fall off. _Of this, of him, you could just never get enough. You loved him so damn much._  Dean kept one hand laced in your hair as you serviced his dick, directing your head right where he wanted it, dragging your lips across every inch of his thick shaft, root to tip, his other hand grazing your cheek and coming down every few seconds with a domineering slap, driving you mad as he ever did with his exquisitely excruciating touch. You could worship his perfect cock like this all damn day, all damn night. Every day, every night for the rest of your life.

"You know," your king thought out loud as he tangled his fingers in your hair, tugging hard on the roots as he watched you pathetically worship his cock like you were born to do. "I should've dumped your sorry ass out on the street ages ago. Should've never even touched a piece of shit like you."

You kissed him harder then, to thank him for reminding you of what was so painfully true.

"But human Dean had his reasons for keeping his sad little fucktoy around. And I've had reasons, too," he uttered, a deadly darkness entering his voice with his next words, the most harrowing sound you'd ever heard, "...till now."

Your heart was already so broken, but suddenly you felt each shattered shard cracking into a thousand more fragments as your master's cruel words cut you open. _So he was done. He was finally fucking done._ It no longer even mattered how hard you kissed him, how slavishly you surrendered yourself to his will and his whim. That didn't stop you from kissing him harder than ever in this moment, surrendering yourself all over again. But to high heaven, to hell and back, it hurt. More than anything. Not that your pain even mattered. Nothing did, if this was to be the end of your existence worshiping your king. Your only reason for existing. Your reason for everything. Bitter tears welled behind your closed eyes; you realized that you couldn't keep them from falling. You gave up on trying.

"Aw, look at that. Little pig's fucking crying," Dean taunted as he dealt your tearstained cheek a vicious slap, letting out a dark and devilish laugh that cut your soul in half. "Hurts so bad, don't it. Knowing the love of your life wants to throw you away. Bet it hurts worse than dying."

 _It really did. Of course it did._ You kept on pressing passionate kisses all over his dick as your heart burst and bled through and through. In spite of and because of just how brutally your beautiful beloved was destroying you, it was the only thing that you could do. You whimpered as every fiber of your being was wracked with a pain so deep, so pure, that it almost didn't even bring you pleasure. The earth-shattering pleasure that you always felt when Dean Winchester put you through a hellish world of hurt. You almost couldn't even feel it, now. Almost. Nothing could ever deprive you of the heartfelt happiness that you derived from yielding to your master as he tortured you in every twisted way that you deserved. _But this came close, damn it. It came real fucking close._

"Hmm," Dean hummed maliciously as he studied the warped war of emotions that was written all across your weeping face. "Looks like I almost found another limit. Almost. But not quite. Ain't that right, bitch. Even me throwing you out like the trash that you are will still bring you some sick, twisted pleasure. As long as that's what I want. Then some sad part of you will love it. Won't you, cunt."

Your skull was firmly under your master's control as he guided your mouth on his cock, but then he loosened his grip just enough to let you bob your head in a meek little nod.

He laughed again. "So the only limit we've found yet is me whoring you out to other men. And goddamn was that limit broken. Now you're gonna like it whenever I let you get used by another dude's dick. As long as it pleases mine. That's the only thing that matters to you, right?"

You managed another sad nod. And you dared to wonder if, maybe, just maybe, Dean had only threatened to throw you away as some part of a game. An attempt to twist you into thinking that it was one of your limits. Which it wasn't. But you couldn't let yourself hope such a thing— _surely he hadn't just been playing; surely he had meant it..._ In any event, if it had been a game, it was done. Now his attention had turned back to the first limit that he'd broken.

"Yeah, now it won't even be torture for you, servicing other men. Soon enough you'll fucking love it. Crave it, even." His lips curved up in a demonic grin. "But you know what I think would  _really_  hurt you? Really break your stupid heart, tear it apart?"

Without even knowing what your king was going to say—just from the dark growl in his voice, a doomed and damning sound—you already knew somehow, deep down, that you did have another limit after all. _And now it had been found._

Dean snickered wickedly down at you. "Watching me, the man you love so much, with other women," he threatened, eyes twinkling black as your face went white with terror, your wide gaze unable to hide that it was true. "Especially if I humiliate the shit out of you by forcing you to please them, too."

 _Oh, God. Fuck. No._ Your heart sank lower now than ever, to the core of the earth, the fiery pit of hell, lower than you'd thought it was possible to go. Of course this was your limit. You should've known it. _God, you should've known._ All of your limits had to do with _others_ —none with Dean alone. You had never once doubted that you would do anything and everything for him. But if his desires involved you bringing pleasure to others, then somehow it just felt... _different_. Unclean. Impure. That wasn't what you had been born for. It was bad enough, to think of being another man's whore. To think of your master ganging up on you along with his beloved brother, his best friend, other demons... any other men. But Dean had broken through that limit, if you ever even had it. Whereas the idea of him coupling with other women, torturing and degrading you along with them... shoving your inferiority, your inadequacy, in your face, rubbing it in, humiliating you in the most heartbreaking way— _when your utter unworthiness of Dean had always been your deepest source of self-hatred and pain_... right now, and probably always, that truly felt like more than you could take.

Dean's dark eyes flickered with sadistic pleasure as he read your pain, painted in pale shades on your devastated face. "There we go. Let that sink in, bitch. Feel that fucking burn as your pathetic heart, your worthless soul, sink nice and low. Even being my come-guzzling, piss-drinking pet isn't low enough for a slut like you, is it? Now you know just how low you can go."

Your king then grabbed you by the hair, yanking your mouth violently off of his raging hard cock, and threw your head down hard into the ground to let you grovel there. He kicked you in the face, toes crashing savagely against your nose, then crushed your skull beneath his sweaty soles. You sobbed in abject suffering and subjugation, some part of you wishing that it didn't feel so good. But it did. _Of course it did, from him, like this. It always would._

"That's it. Know your place. Never forget it, you subhuman slave. Squirm on the floor beneath my feet. You've always known that you're so fucking far beneath me and you always will be," Dean sneered down at you, bringing his hand up to his dick to begin stroking it. Though you could barely even see him from your vantage point squashed underneath his feet, you heard the slick sound of his fingers gathering precome from the tip to ease the steady motion of his fist. "And not just me. You are worth so much less than any woman I have ever been with. Shit, it gets me so damn hard just thinking about them. All those sexy, self-respecting women. Women who are worth something. Busty Asian beauties, black chicks with thick dick-sucking lips, blonde bombshells, feisty redheads, bendy brunettes who taught yoga and brought it to bed, curvy Latinas straight out of Casa Erotica. Yeah, I've fucked them all. From pornstars and strippers to shy little church-going girls who worshiped God in heaven till my cock became their religion. From humans to angels and demons. Monsters and goddesses, even. And every single one of them was fucking stunning. Every time I went out to get some, I'd end up going home with the hottest girl in the room. Until you."

It hurt so bad because you so deeply, completely knew it to be true. The old Dean, you remembered— _though you wished you didn't, in this moment; that just made it worse_ —had always taken every chance to tell you and to show you just how beautiful you were. With both his actions and his words, in all the dirty ways in bed, and out of bed in ways that were so fucking pure. So pure it hurt. With all your broken heart, you remembered. You had loved the human Dean so much for that. Some buried part of you still did. And yet even if he had meant it then, even if it had ever been true, you had never really believed him. Maybe you had been cute, pretty, beautiful even, in the days before you ever met Dean Winchester. But you couldn't remember; those days didn't matter. Ever since laying eyes on his perfection, you had known clearly that all you would ever be was inferior. All you could see when you looked in the mirror was a worthless whore who lived only to worship and serve him, a sad piece of shit that would never deserve him.

"Lucky for you," Dean continued, "your pathetic life crossed paths with mine just when I'd started hating myself so damn much that I thought I deserved to scrape the bottom of the barrel. Stooping low and just fucking the nearest skank, not caring what she looked like, what she was worth. That's where you came in. The most worthless whore I'd ever seen. One look at your face, and I knew you were so head over heels crazy about me that I could pound you into pieces like a goddamned piece of meat. That from the second we first met, you were already soaking wet and wanted me to use you and abuse you like the fucktoy you were born to be. God, that thought always got me so hard. The old Dean felt so dirty, so guilty about it, but he always saw you for what you really are. A sorry sack of shit that never deserved to exist."

You really hated how much you loved hearing this.

"Right this minute I could get myself a gorgeous goddess with a pretty face, a perfect body. Superior to you in every way. Fucking pathetic pig you are," your master scoffed, applying more weight from his feet to your face, then moving one of them to stick his toes into your mouth, watching you suck them in devotedly. "You always knew that you'd never be good enough for me. You know I could get any girl I want. Just settled for you because it got me off to be with someone so beneath me. Some cheap slut who would always beg for me to fuck her filthy face and worthless cunt. But during all those years I was supposedly so faithfully in love with you, if only you knew all the beautiful women I slept with whenever I went without you on a hunt. I'd make sweet love to them. And then I'd come home to my dirty little fucktoy. And I'd feel sick for touching such a sad, subhuman piece of scum. All those times I took you nice and gently, as if you were a girl with any dignity, it was because I was pretending you were one of them."

The foot that was pressing down onto your cheek was now soaked in your tears as they fell, salty with the sting of heartbreak and the hate that you had always felt toward yourself.

"Hell, I don't know why I ever let you take anything straight from this cock that you love so damn much. Take my come in your undeserving cunt, my piss all over your unworthy tongue," Dean went on. "I should only let you suck it out of women who are worthy of that privilege. Shoot my juices deep inside their holes and watch them squirt out every drop all over your pathetic face. Listen to their pretty laughter, kiss them sweetly, passionately, while we take pleasure in humiliating you together. Would you like that, bitch?"

 _Holy fucking shit._ You honestly weren't sure, in this mortifying moment, how Dean could ever manage to break this limit. Ever make you willing to receive this kind of treatment, let alone to want it or to like it. _This was just so fucking twisted..._

"Would you? Because I sure as hell would," he stated, shifting his foot to smear spilled tears all over your forehead.

You pressed one last kiss to his big toe as he pulled his other foot out of your mouth.

"And if you don't want what your master wants..." Dean said, suddenly pulling you up by the hair until your head was hovering inches away from his perfect face, holding you there and breathing out a feral grunt as he forced you to meet his demonic black stare, "...then what kind of sorry excuse for a slave are you? Fucking useless good-for-nothing _cunt_."

And that was it. That was when you knew. Dean hadn't broken your limit; but one way or another, through torturous twists and turns, he would have managed that, if he had _really_ wanted to. Such was his absolute and utter power over you.

But that wasn't what he had wanted. He hadn't broken your limit; he had chosen to break something else instead.

Dean had broken your heart. The heart that he had shattered so many times already, over and over, crushed to pieces, torn apart. Somehow, through all of that, your heart would always find a way to mend, to face another day to beat for him, to break for him again. But now that had at last come to an end.

Your heart was broken for what had to be the final time; there would be no healing from this one. You were done—he was done—it was done.

Or so you thought, in the instant that your heart was eternally broken. There was no way that you could've known, then, that it was not yet the end. That there was more to come.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :) As always, please do comment if you enjoyed this and/or if you're excited for what's coming next in the (likely) finale!!! Love you all so much <3


	15. Epilogue - Bereft (Part 6) [Version 2]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ** NOTE: VERSION 1 OF THIS PART 6 IS SCAT-FREE. VERSION 2 IS SCATTY. READ WHICHEVER YOU PREFER AND READ THE NOTES, PLEASE :) **
> 
> Dean breaks you where it hurts most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiii so here is Version 2 of Part 6! This Version 2 includes a more graphic shit-eating scene. If you do read this, please note that this is a fantasy and is really not intended to be realistic... i.e., Dean is a fictional godly king whose shit tastes amazing because it's fucking magic. That's the fun and the beauty of this kind of fiction: to explore kinks in theory that may be very different if attempted in reality. I wouldn't know from experience lol but that's not the point. I've also never fucked a demon (shocker!) and probably would never do most of the stuff in this fic, but that doesn't stop me from imagining it and writing it, and hopefully doesn't keep you guys from enjoying it :)
> 
> [The rest of this note is identical to parts of the note on Version 1, in case you've already read that! If not, read ahead!]
> 
> First things first: this is actually not the finale (I know, will this fic ever end?!?), but I'm pretty sure that Part 7 will be. 
> 
> Also importantly: as noted in the summary, there are two versions of this Part 6. I was so happy (and surprised, in the best way!) to see that some of you enjoyed Dean shitting on his bitch in the last chapter, so I've decided to write a version that has more of that :) But I also got some very intense hate for it, which I sort of expected. Though I didn't expect the insult to extend to my readers. That pissed me off a lot because I love you guys and none of you deserve that. So I just want to be clear: **for those who do not want to read about shit-eating, please do not read Version 2!** If you want to read it just so that you can insult me for it, go right ahead, if that's how you get your kicks. But if you intend to insult my other readers, then please kindly fuck off. Thanks :)
> 
> On a separate note — I also want to warn that this Part 6 is more emotionally abusive than previous chapters. Demon Dean wants to break his bitch where it hurts, and she's so deeply in love with him that she is very vulnerable to anything he says to her. *Whether or not it's true.* So if you're up for reading this kind of thing, please just keep that in mind and be prepared for Dean's bitch to go through some heartbreaking and humiliating abuse, but please don't let it actually hurt you. Thank you! <3

You could really, truly die happy now. You had become Dean Winchester's complete and utter bitch in every way: his submissive slave, his subhuman pet, his desperate little fucktoy and his fucking toilet. For days now—maybe weeks, or months; you were too blissed out to keep count—you had been kept here in his dungeon, living only to serve and worship him. He fucked you hard in whatever hole he wanted, whenever he wanted, and he wanted it often. He made you cry and scream and bleed for him. He broke you, body and mind, heart and soul, over and over again, even when nothing remained to be broken. He used every instrument of torture that he owned, and sometimes he brought new ones home. His massive monster cock was still his favorite weapon to wield on you, though. His and your favorite both. And all the while you survived on nothing but the glorious gifts that he deigned to feed you from his gorgeous body: his come, his piss, his sweat, his spit, his shit. You were just a hole for him to dump all of it. And you savored every drop and every bit. Often from your dog bowls, but sometimes fresh from the source, when you deserved it. It was perfect.

Normally, you knew, no human being would be able to sustain life for very long on such a diet, eating and drinking only what came out of another. And no human slave would be able to stay alive for very long through so much bloody torture from such a merciless master. But neither you nor Dean were human beings: you were a pathetic worthless plaything, and he was a godly demon king. You could go on like this forever, and one way or another, maybe owing to supernatural forces of some sort, you would always find ways to recover, to wake up the next day ready and eager for more, because no amount of time would ever be enough to fulfill the roles that you were fated for. Ever. What you saw whenever you looked up in the mirror on the ceiling of your torture chamber might have looked like a dead, empty shell of yourself, rotting away in the dark depths of hell—but on the inside, you knew that this dungeon was your heaven, and that your days here were the only time that you had ever truly been alive.

You were so damn grateful for every minute that Dean hadn't decided to get rid of you yet. That he still derived pleasure from using and abusing you like this. With each passing day, you feared that he might finally get bored and throw you away. There were no new kinks to explore at this point, no new games to play. Both of you knew that you had no more limits for him to break; he had once threatened to twist you into thinking that you had some, just so that he could break them. But so far, ever since he had broken your first limit, your resistance against being used by other men, that hadn't yet happened again. Part of you wondered if he ever would, and when. And you wondered why he hadn't yet invited anyone else into the dungeon. He was supposed to summon hundreds of demons to rape you, or give you over to Sam, or spit-roast you along with Cas. But so far, none of that had come to pass.

You lay in your cage wondering about this one morning. _Was he waiting for you to beg for it or something?_ You never would, you knew; Dean may have broken through the limit you once thought you had about this kind of thing, but still, you would only be a desperate cockslut if and when he commanded you to. You only ever wanted him. You would only want to please other men for the purpose of pleasing your supreme god, your sovereign king.

All of your thoughts came to a halt when the door swung open and he walked in. That was what always happened. Every morning, you laid eyes on the perfection of Dean Winchester as if for the first time, and your heart and mind stood still as you fell deeply, completely in love with him all over again.

He was already naked this time when he entered. You loved it when he didn't bother with clothes; a body so beautiful had no business being covered. Your eyes soaked in the stunning sight of your master for a second before you sank into your subservient position as his whore, kneeling in your cage facing his throne, on all fours with your head bowed low and face pressed to the floor.

"Look at me, bitch," Dean demanded as he sat down in his throne, reclining deeply in the luxurious seat with his legs spread and his ass sticking out over the edge. One hand rose to his stiffening cock and began stroking deliberately, base to head. The other hand rested on his abs, gently massaging his stomach. "I've got a big shit for your breakfast and I want to see you beg for it."

Already drooling like mad as you raised your head to gaze at his magnificent ass and incredible dick, you let out a few loud barks and growls, followed by a series of snorts and grunts, knowing that he wanted you to beg like a dog and a pig. Sometimes he let you use your words, but this morning you weren't going to be that lucky.

Your king stared down at you with such contempt, his flawless face glowing with power and superiority. "Crawl over to me. Kiss my feet before I use your face as my toilet seat."

Your cunt dripping with arousal and desire for your master, you nudged your cage door open and crawled desperately toward him. As you arrived, you pressed your pathetic lips into each of his perfect feet, savoring the flavor of his sweat, salty and sweet.

After a few minutes of that, Dean brought both of his hands down to grab the firm globes of his ass, pulling his cheeks slightly apart, drawing all of your attention to his tight pink sphincter. "Now kiss this shithole that you live for, you disgusting whore."

Aching to show him just how much you loved his ass with all your heart, you smushed your mouth into his open crack and kissed it, hard. Your lips caressed the puckered skin around his entrance as you sucked tenderly on it, your tongue twirling around his hole, entering to taste his essence, venturing deeper inside with each worshipful kiss.

You had only squeezed in about fifty kisses or so—not enough, not nearly—when Dean suddenly stood to his feet. He grabbed you by your leash and dragged your head toward his throne, positioning it where he wanted, facing upward with the back of your skull sinking into the cushioned seat. _God, it always felt so right when he did this. Smothering and subjugating you as his actual toilet._ You didn't need him to tell you to open wide; your mouth was gaping open as he squatted down directly over it, crushing you beneath his meaty ass, between his muscled thighs. Your nose was lodged in the sweaty crease between his cheeks and your loving lips encircled his sweet shithole as he settled his full body weight onto your worthless face.

Your master kept his tight grip on your leash, pulling upward a bit just to cause you pain, straining your collared neck. "Dirty slut want some hot demon shit? Gonna swallow it all like a good little pig?"

You groaned desperately into his crack, body squirming beneath him in bliss. Eating your king's sacred shit was your life's truest purpose.

"Eat up, bitch," he commanded as his hole expanded to start emptying his load into your eager mouth. "That's right. Live and die as my toilet. Suck on that shit till you fucking choke on it."

Overcome with the most heavenly feeling of ecstasy, you opened up your throat to take in everything he gave, losing yourself in your role as Dean Winchester's toilet slave. His steaming hot shit filled up your mouth in seconds; you would never get over how impossibly good it tasted. Everything that came out of his glorious body was so damn delicious. His shit was fucking magic, sweet and thick and smooth as silk. You savored the flavor, so sinfully rich as it slid down your tongue and past your tonsils as you ravenously swallowed every bit, flushing it down as his dutiful toilet. You couldn't get enough of it. You seriously lived for his shit. This was the best way you could dream of to worship your god, the most degrading way to serve him, to show him just how much you loved him, how thankful you were that he gave you this gift when you didn't deserve it, to embrace the obvious truth that you were so inferior to him, so worthless, and he was so perfect.

"You're so fucking sick. So pathetic," your master reminded you as he finished, moving off of your mouth, his asshole lifting from your lips with the sloppiest suctioning sound. "Keep that filthy throat open wide, bitch. Gonna let you wash down all that shit with some sweet demon piss."

You gawked up at him in grateful adoration as he turned around, bracing his knees against your shoulders, towering over you and aiming his huge cock right at your shit-stained tongue to hose you down. His golden piss instantly flooded your mouth. Struggling to breathe through your nose, you gargled every drop just like you knew he wanted, blowing big juicy bubbles to swish all the shit you had eaten, to flush it all down your deep throat as you swallowed.

Once Dean was done pissing, he leaned down to spit in your mouth, watching with dark eyes as you savored the last serving of his fluids. He clamped one of his hands over your snout, palm pressing hard against your nose and lips to suffocate you as you gulped down all his piss and shit and spit. His other hand enclosed your throat, firm grip just hard enough to choke. He leered down at you demonically as he dished out more well-deserved abuse. "Fucking toilet. You love it. You know everything that comes out of your master belongs in your filthy bottom-feeding mouth. Want me to flush it all down?"

Even with your entire head and neck completely dominated like this, breathless and gagging on his juices, somehow you managed a pathetic little nod. You so desperately needed to say yes.

He laughed, a sinful sound as sinister as the sight of his eyes flashing black. "Yeah, that's it. You want this. You need this. Take it, you fucking good-for-nothing bitch."

And then the hand that he had clamped over your mouth shifted so that he could shove four of his thick fingers in, stretching your lips painfully wide open as he began pumping, plunging your throat like the toilet it had always been. The hand around your neck clenched and released to the rhythm of his penetrating fingers, allowing you to gulp down his gifts bit by bit, though some unavoidably spluttered and spilled down your chin. You hated yourself for that sin. For missing any drop of all the precious goodness that came out of him. Your wide eyes gazed reverently up at your ravishing king, wordlessly apologizing, longing to express just how much you loved him.

After your entire mouthful had been forcefully flushed down, Dean let out a satisfied growl, pulling his fingers out to slap you hard across the face with his sopping wet palm. "Fucking subhuman _scum_."

Without needing to be told, you kissed the hand that hit you, slurping up the film of spit and piss that coated his skin, cleaning off the shit marks with your hungry tongue just like you loved to do. Then he smacked you again, just because he could. Just because he wanted to. Just because making his slave feel pain made him feel good. _God, he was so hot. You loved him so much. Always would._ Your king then grabbed you by the hair and forced your face down toward his feet, letting you kiss them for a minute as he sat back in his throne, legs spread with his cheeks hanging over the edge of the seat.

"Get up and clean my ass, you dirty pig," he spat once he had had enough of that. "Come over here and kiss the hole that shits on you. Thank me for feeding you so good, flushing your throat the way you want me to. Making you my nasty little toilet. Mmm, that's it, lick up every last bit of your master's hot shit. The shit you live to fucking worship."

It turned you on so much when he talked like this. Absolute filth. _And so true, every word of it._ You hoisted yourself up to push your face into his ass again, where it belonged. Smudges of sweet brown shit were smeared across his crack, lingering in his sphincter, destined for your tongue. You could feel the tip of your nose getting stained as you burrowed inside him; the smell of his recent release was still so rich, so strong. And the flavor was, too, you found as your lips planted sloppy French kisses all over his hole, sucking every damn thing you could get out of it, every kiss warm and wet, deep and long. Kissing the hole that fed you shit should have felt shameful and wrong... but everything Dean wanted always felt right. You could worship his pretty little shithole all damn day, all damn night. Every day, every night for the rest of your life.

"You know," your king thought out loud as he tangled his fingers in your hair, tugging hard on the roots as he watched you pathetically worship his ass like you were born to do. "I should've dumped your sorry ass out on the street ages ago. Should've never even touched a piece of shit like you."

You kissed him harder then, to thank him for reminding you of what was so painfully true.

"But human Dean had his reasons for keeping his sad little fucktoy around. And I've had reasons, too," he uttered, a deadly darkness entering his voice with his next words, the most harrowing sound you'd ever heard, "...till now."

Your heart was already so broken, but suddenly you felt each shattered shard cracking into a thousand more fragments as your master's cruel words cut you open. _So he was done. He was finally fucking done._ It no longer even mattered how hard you kissed him, how slavishly you surrendered yourself to his will and his whim. That didn't stop you from kissing him harder than ever in this moment, surrendering yourself all over again. But to high heaven, to hell and back, it hurt. More than anything. Not that your pain even mattered. Nothing did, if this was to be the end of your existence worshiping your king. Your only reason for existing. Your reason for everything. Bitter tears welled behind your closed eyes; you realized that you couldn't keep them from falling. You gave up on trying.

"Aw, look at that. Little pig's fucking crying," Dean taunted as he dealt your tearstained cheek a vicious slap, letting out a dark and devilish laugh that cut your soul in half. "Hurts so bad, don't it. Knowing the love of your life wants to throw you away. Bet it hurts worse than dying."

 _It really did. Of course it did._ You kept on pressing passionate kisses all over his ass as your heart burst and bled through and through. In spite of and because of just how brutally your beautiful beloved was destroying you, it was the only thing that you could do. You whimpered as every fiber of your being was wracked with a pain so deep, so pure, that it almost didn't even bring you pleasure. The earth-shattering pleasure that you always felt when Dean Winchester put you through a hellish world of hurt. You almost couldn't even feel it, now. Almost. Nothing could ever deprive you of the heartfelt happiness that you derived from yielding to your master as he tortured you in every twisted way that you deserved. _But this came close, damn it. It came real fucking close._

"Hmm," Dean hummed maliciously as he studied the warped war of emotions that was written all across your weeping face. "Looks like I almost found another limit. Almost. But not quite. Ain't that right, bitch. Even me throwing you out like the trash that you are will still bring you some sick, twisted pleasure. As long as that's what I want. Then some sad part of you will love it. Won't you, cunt."

Your skull was firmly under your master's control as he guided your mouth up from his asshole to his cock, but then he loosened his grip just enough to let you bob your head in a meek little nod.

He laughed again. "So the only limit we've found yet is me whoring you out to other men. And goddamn was that limit broken. Now you're gonna like it whenever I let you get used by another dude's dick. As long as it pleases mine. That's the only thing that matters to you, right?"

You managed another sad nod. And you dared to wonder if, maybe, just maybe, Dean had only threatened to throw you away as some part of a game. An attempt to twist you into thinking that it was one of your limits. Which it wasn't. But you couldn't let yourself hope such a thing— _surely he hadn't just been playing; surely he had meant it..._ In any event, if it had been a game, it was done. Now his attention had turned back to the first limit that he'd broken.

"Yeah, now it won't even be torture for you, servicing other men. Soon enough you'll fucking love it. Crave it, even." His lips curved up in a demonic grin. "But you know what I think would  _really_  hurt you? Really break your stupid heart, tear it apart?"

Without even knowing what your king was going to say—just from the dark growl in his voice, a doomed and damning sound—you already knew somehow, deep down, that you did have another limit after all. _And now it had been found._

Dean snickered wickedly down at you. "Watching me, the man you love so much, with other women," he threatened, eyes twinkling black as your face went white with terror, your wide gaze unable to hide that it was true. "Especially if I humiliate the shit out of you by forcing you to please them, too."

 _Oh, God. Fuck. No._ Your heart sank lower now than ever, to the core of the earth, the fiery pit of hell, lower than you'd thought it was possible to go. Of course this was your limit. You should've known it. _God, you should've known._ All of your limits had to do with _others_ —none with Dean alone. You had never once doubted that you would do anything and everything for him. But if his desires involved you bringing pleasure to others, then somehow it just felt... _different_. Unclean. Impure. That wasn't what you had been born for. It was bad enough, to think of being another man's whore. To think of your master ganging up on you along with his beloved brother, his best friend, other demons... any other men. But Dean had broken through that limit, if you ever even had it. Whereas the idea of him coupling with other women, torturing and degrading you along with them... shoving your inferiority, your inadequacy, in your face, rubbing it in, humiliating you in the most heartbreaking way— _when your utter unworthiness of Dean had always been your deepest source of self-hatred and pain_... right now, and probably always, that truly felt like more than you could take.

Dean's dark eyes flickered with sadistic pleasure as he read your pain, painted in pale shades on your devastated face. "There we go. Let that sink in, bitch. Feel that fucking burn as your pathetic heart, your worthless soul, sink nice and low. Even being my shit-eating toilet isn't low enough for a slut like you, is it? Now you know just how low you can go."

Your king then grabbed you by the hair, yanking your mouth violently off of his raging hard cock, and threw your head down hard into the ground to let you grovel there. He kicked you in the face, toes crashing savagely against your nose, then crushed your skull beneath his sweaty soles. You sobbed in abject suffering and subjugation, some part of you wishing that it didn't feel so good. But it did. _Of course it did, from him, like this. It always would._

"That's it. Know your place. Never forget it, you subhuman slave. Squirm on the floor beneath my feet. You've always known that you're so fucking far beneath me and you always will be," Dean sneered down at you, bringing his hand up to his dick to begin stroking it. Though you could barely even see him from your vantage point squashed underneath his feet, you heard the slick sound of his fingers gathering precome from the tip to ease the steady motion of his fist. "And not just me. You are worth so much less than any woman I have ever been with. Shit, it gets me so damn hard just thinking about them. All those sexy, self-respecting women. Women who are worth something. Busty Asian beauties, black chicks with thick dick-sucking lips, blonde bombshells, feisty redheads, bendy brunettes who taught yoga and brought it to bed, curvy Latinas straight out of Casa Erotica. Yeah, I've fucked them all. From pornstars and strippers to shy little church-going girls who worshiped God in heaven till my cock became their religion. From humans to angels and demons. Monsters and goddesses, even. And every single one of them was fucking stunning. Every time I went out to get some, I'd end up going home with the hottest girl in the room. Until you."

It hurt so bad because you so deeply, completely knew it to be true. The old Dean, you remembered— _though you wished you didn't, in this moment; that just made it worse_ —had always taken every chance to tell you and to show you just how beautiful you were. With both his actions and his words, in all the dirty ways in bed, and out of bed in ways that were so fucking pure. So pure it hurt. With all your broken heart, you remembered. You had loved the human Dean so much for that. Some buried part of you still did. And yet even if he had meant it then, even if it had ever been true, you had never really believed him. Maybe you had been cute, pretty, beautiful even, in the days before you ever met Dean Winchester. But you couldn't remember; those days didn't matter. Ever since laying eyes on his perfection, you had known clearly that all you would ever be was inferior. All you could see when you looked in the mirror was a worthless whore who lived only to worship and serve him, a sad piece of shit that would never deserve him.

"Lucky for you," Dean continued, "your pathetic life crossed paths with mine just when I'd started hating myself so damn much that I thought I deserved to scrape the bottom of the barrel. Stooping low and just fucking the nearest skank, not caring what she looked like, what she was worth. That's where you came in. The most worthless whore I'd ever seen. One look at your face, and I knew you were so head over heels crazy about me that I could pound you into pieces like a goddamned piece of meat. That from the second we first met, you were already soaking wet and wanted me to use you and abuse you like the fucktoy you were born to be. God, that thought always got me so hard. The old Dean felt so dirty, so guilty about it, but he always saw you for what you really are. A sorry sack of shit that never deserved to exist."

You really hated how much you loved hearing this.

"Right this minute I could get myself a gorgeous goddess with a pretty face, a perfect body. Superior to you in every way. Fucking pathetic pig you are," your master scoffed, applying more weight from his feet to your face, then moving one of them to stick his toes into your mouth, watching you suck them in devotedly. "You always knew that you'd never be good enough for me. You know I could get any girl I want. Just settled for you because it got me off to be with someone so beneath me. Some cheap slut who would always beg for me to fuck her filthy face and worthless cunt. But during all those years I was supposedly so faithfully in love with you, if only you knew all the beautiful women I slept with whenever I went without you on a hunt. I'd make sweet love to them. And then I'd come home to my dirty little fucktoy. And I'd feel sick for touching such a sad, subhuman piece of scum. All those times I took you nice and gently, as if you were a girl with any dignity, it was because I was pretending you were one of them."

The foot that was pressing down onto your cheek was now soaked in your tears as they fell, salty with the sting of heartbreak and the hate that you had always felt toward yourself.

"Hell, I don't know why I ever let you take anything straight from this cock that you love so damn much. Take my come in your undeserving cunt, my piss all over your unworthy tongue," Dean went on. "I should only let you suck it out of women who are worthy of that privilege. Shoot my juices deep inside their holes and watch them squirt out every drop all over your pathetic face. Listen to their pretty laughter, kiss them sweetly, passionately, while we take pleasure in humiliating you together. Would you like that, bitch?"

 _Holy fucking shit._ You honestly weren't sure, in this mortifying moment, how Dean could ever manage to break this limit. Ever make you willing to receive this kind of treatment, let alone to want it or to like it. _This was just so fucking twisted..._

"Would you? Because I sure as hell would," he stated, shifting his foot to smear spilled tears all over your forehead.

You pressed one last kiss to his big toe as he pulled his other foot out of your mouth.

"And if you don't want what your master wants..." Dean said, suddenly pulling you up by the hair until your head was hovering inches away from his perfect face, holding you there and breathing out a feral grunt as he forced you to meet his demonic black stare, "...then what kind of sorry excuse for a slave are you? Fucking useless good-for-nothing _cunt_."

And that was it. That was when you knew. Dean hadn't broken your limit; but one way or another, through torturous twists and turns, he would have managed that, if he had _really_ wanted to. Such was his absolute and utter power over you.

But that wasn't what he had wanted. He hadn't broken your limit; he had chosen to break something else instead.

Dean had broken your heart. The heart that he had shattered so many times already, over and over, crushed to pieces, torn apart. Somehow, through all of that, your heart would always find a way to mend, to face another day to beat for him, to break for him again. But now that had at last come to an end.

Your heart was broken for what had to be the final time; there would be no healing from this one. You were done—he was done—it was done.

Or so you thought, in the instant that your heart was eternally broken. There was no way that you could've known, then, that it was not yet the end. That there was more to come.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :) As always, please do comment if you enjoyed this and/or if you're excited for what's coming next in the (likely) finale!!! Love you all so much <3


	16. Epilogue - Bereft (Part 7)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The. End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS IT, BITCHES! THE FINALE!!! I really hope you all enjoy it and can't wait to see your comments :D
> 
> ** Please be warned: This chapter is by far the darkest yet. It is extremely morbid and sick and twisted. Dean's bitch has already expressed many times that she wants to die for him, so this should come as no surprise, but still, it is super intense. I won't spoil the ending as to whether or not she actually dies here, but naturally, this chapter is going to explore that possibility. I know I'm not the only one who has a kink for the idea of getting killed by Dean — in theory, in the totally fictional context of this kind of fantasy — but I'm sure that kind of thing isn't for everyone. So *please* keep that in mind and stop reading if this is too much. Seriously. I'm well aware that what's depicted here is absolutely unhealthy, and the last thing I want is to upset or trigger anyone, so please please please proceed with caution. **
> 
> Also, if this morbid stuff scares or disgusts you, I completely understand, but please don't feel the need to tell me how fucked up it is — trust me, I get it. I would just wonder why you've read thus far if you were not prepared for this. This is a fictional fantasy about a bitch who is pretty much drunk and drugged on her devotion to Dean, which is deeper than ever now because, well, she's been living on a diet of demon juices. So pretty please, no preaching in the comments. No hate, no shame, no judgment. Thank you :)
> 
> OKAY, on to the end!!! I hope you enjoy the final chapter of this filthy adventure...

_This had to be the end._ You knew it as you woke some hours later, curled up in your cage, not even remembering how Dean had thrown your limp body back in there like a rag doll after you had fainted, the trauma of your recent pain having drained all the lifeblood from your head. Your soul hadn't passed on to hell. Not yet. You could feel it still, in this cold mortal shell. But that didn't mean that you were living. Not at all. Not even just a little. Here and now and ever afterward, in every way that mattered, you were dead.

It was a truth that every fiber of your being had accepted. Dead as you were, though, you knew that your king could still find ways to kill you, if he wanted. Wield his dominion over your lifeless existence and slay you all over again. He could do it, you knew. And you wanted him to.

Surely the time had come. Surely now he was finally done. Dean had found your hardest limit, and he hadn't broken it, the way that you both knew he could. He had chosen to break your heart instead. To bring your heartbeat to its bitter end. This time, for good. And because he hadn't broken through your limit, because there was some goddamned part of you that hated and resisted something that your master wanted, you really and truly no longer deserved to exist. Your perfect god had the power and the right to grip your whole soul in his fist, to grind it into dust, to crush into nothing the worthless plaything that had always been his.

And with your last breath, as he wrecked you to death, you would thank him for it. For the privilege, the gift. You loved him even more when you were lifeless like this. Beaten down, broken open, bereft. Dean Winchester had owned you from the moment you'd first met. And even before that fateful moment, you knew, your devotion to him had forever been destined. You'd been born to belong to your king. But if any shred of anything remained inside yourself to give to him, you gave it. You would always give him anything. Your love, your life, your everything. Till there was nothing left.

 _So then... now... what was next?_ You shuddered in your prison as you wondered.  _How exactly was this demon going to destroy his dirty little fucktoy?_ Would he throw you out like a sack of trash onto the street? Give you over to his kinky bastard of a brother, to be ravaged rough and raw, ravished ruthlessly like a rotten piece of meat? Or would Dean have mercy and just end you down here in this dungeon—maybe a bloody death by any of his many weapons, or maybe choke you on his monster cock like he'd so often threatened, or smother your face with his sweaty ass until you suffocated, or step on your head and shove his toes deep in your mouth and nose until you couldn't breathe from underneath his feet?

Each thought that ran through your pathetic head got you all soaking wet. _God, you were going to take so much fucking pleasure in your death._ As long as it was Dean who killed you, dying would be heaven. Even though you knew well that your godforsaken soul had to be fated for the deepest ring of hell. For all your sins, for how horrendous they had been. You had wasted and tainted so many precious years of Dean Winchester's life, just by being by his side when you had always known you were so utterly unworthy of him. And worse yet, as your master had once said, you deserved to be punished simply for being such a sorry piece of shit. Simply for existing. Your entire life was and had always been just one big unforgivable sin.

You knew it more than ever as you heard the heavy door swing open. And though your face belonged down on the floor, in this instant you couldn't resist looking up to lay eyes on your beautiful, powerful, perfect king as he strode in, closing the door firmly behind him.

He was naked again. Letting your loving gaze take in every inch of him, his godlike body glowing sinfully in the chamber's dim lighting, such a masterpiece of sculpted muscle sheathed in flawless skin. His massive cock was already at half-mast; you could see it throb and harden with each step as he walked in. That luscious cock had always been your favorite thing for your beloved king to use on you, the best of all his weapons. But then your breath caught in your throat, all of a sudden, as you saw that it was not the only one.

Dean was holding a gun.

You gulped. Loudly. It felt like all your blood rushed in this moment to your soaking fucking cunt. Even after everything that he had put you through, all the pain and pleasure that ignited your every fire and slaked your desires so well, taking you to the sweetest heights of heaven and the hottest depths of hell... even after all of that, right now you knew that you'd  _never_ been more turned on.

 _Holy mother of fuck_ , you thought, not knowing how it could even be possible for any sight to be so hot. You had always had a thing for Dean with guns. A big bad thing. It had always been your darkest, deadliest kink. The way he handled the metallic mortal weapons when he sat in bed and lined them up for cleaning, so fucking sensually, as if they were sex toys or something. The way his finger so masterfully framed the trigger, before and during every shot you'd seen him take, and even afterward, the way it always lingered. That face he'd make whenever he would take his shot and watch the bullet hit its target. As it always did. Even when he was fully human, he would always make that same sadistic face, if only for a split second. The flash of darkness in his gaze, the twitch of his lips as the bullet sank in. A face of pure sin. The face of a killer who got off on seeing blood spill from his victims. The face of a demon.

And now here he was. Exactly that. A goddamned demon, gun in hand, towering over you in all his naked glory. You had never wanted him so fucking bad.

Dean sauntered up to your cage and smirked down at his sick little slave. "Like what you see, bitch?" he teased, flaunting the weapon gripped tight in his fist, waving it in your face with a wicked flourish. "Like the thought of me blowing your brains out with this?"

 _God, you did._ No part of you was able to deny it.Your head bobbed up and down as a hungry groan slipped past your lips.

His own lips curved up in a silent laugh, mocking you for so desperately wanting a gunshot to rip you in half. "Come here and give it a kiss."

 _Fuck yes_. Craving just that and not even ashamed, you crawled over toward your king as he stuck the barrel of his gun through the bars of your cage, aiming it straight at your pathetic face. You knelt before him and gazed up at him as you obeyed. Without so much as a blink, you wrapped your mouth around the open muzzle of his gun and shoved your tongue inside of it, a deep fucking French kiss, tasting metal and dust, senses filled with the flavor of death, all the while keeping your eyes locked on his. His finger wasn't on the trigger, you noticed. You wished it were. That was what you deserved and needed.

"Mmm," Dean hummed, his pupils dilating and sparkling for a second, then swiftly swallowing the irises and whites in devilish darkness. "Bet you want my finger on the trigger, you sick piece of shit. Want to die here and now when you think you deserve it."

Your lips popped wetly off of the tip of his gun as your king pulled it out of your mouth. _Damn; you felt so empty now._ Yes, you deserved to die. Even when already dead, you deserved to die over and over again, by his hand, in whatever way he wanted. As punishment for all your sins, and for ever having existed. _Of course you deserved it. You knew you did..._

"But you don't, bitch," your master stated bluntly then. "Not yet. You're gonna have to earn it."

 _Shit._ You bit your lip. You should've known. It was so obvious; you'd been so dumb to think you might deserve it. So damn stupid. Death by Dean would be a fucking gift.

Your mighty king hefted the fatal hunk of metal in his hands. "I know how much you love me with a gun. Gets you wet as fuck, doesn't it. But this son of a bitch—it gets the job done quick. One shot to the heart, or to the head..." he said, pointing the thing deliberately at your chest, then at your face, miming the shots that he might take, "...and you'd be good and dead. Just like that."

 _God. Yes._ You had seriously never been so wet.

"Yeah, this thing kills fast. But I think..." your master mused, inserting his gun through the bars of your cage again, bringing the barrel down toward your throat, tracing your jawline, clearly enjoying the sight as you watched his cock rise to full mast, "I think we both want your death to burn, to bleed, a little more than that. To hurt real bad. We're gonna make it last."

 _Holy hell—he always fucked you up just right_ , you thought with a sigh as he swiped the lethal thing over your lips to let you leave a longing kiss against the cold, hard surface. _Always gave you what you wanted, needed, just what you deserved; you never even had to ask._

Then he pulled the weapon back, so swiftly that the sudden absence of it on your skin halted your breathing; your inhale faltered with a feeble gasp. He huffed out a little laugh, seeing you so needy like that, then turned and headed toward the table at the far end of the chamber. You watched him walk away, your gaze tracing the rippled muscles of his back before it fell to fixate on the firm globes of his ass. _So fucking fine. So fucking flawless._ To be destroyed by something so damn beautiful, so perfect, so delicious, would be such a fucking privilege.

Dean set his gun down on the table and surveyed his other weapons, focusing on his extensive knife collection. "Before you get to die the way you want, you desperate cunt," he spoke, fingers grazing the handle of the sharpest blade that he could find, "I'm gonna have to mark you up as mine. Put some tags on my dirty little dog before I ship you off to hell. So that every evil beast downstairs can tell, from just one look at you, who this pathetic pet belongs to. Who your master is. Would you like that, bitch?"

Wetting your lips, parched with thirst for your master—knowing that he couldn't see you nod your head, from where he stood with his back facing you across the chamber—you barked and growled for him, just like the mutt you were. _You needed this. You needed all of hell to know that you were his._

"Damn right. You'll fucking love it. Now crawl over here, you filthy piece of shit," he commanded.

Without a moment's pause, you did, pushing the cage door open to hasten toward him. Once you reached your king, you rested your forehead on one of his ankles, wanting so badly to kiss it, but knowing to wait for permission.

He didn't give it. "Up on your knees, pet," he ordered instead.

You hoisted yourself up into kneeling position, shuddering with pleasure as you felt him take a firm hold of your leash and yank you up onto your feet. With his free arm, he swept a set of torture instruments out of the way, then shoved your naked torso facedown into the blank space that he'd created on the table's grimy wooden surface. You winced on impact, but your whimper quickly turned into a moan of bliss as Dean's big hand came down against your ass. You could feel your skin already burning just from the first smack. Little did you know that you would soon be burning up far worse than that.

"Stay," he bade as he let go of your leash and suddenly, unexpectedly, moved away. Aching for another hit from him, you yelped and quivered where you lay. "Bad dog. Shut the fuck up and _stay_."

You bit your tongue, unable to see where he was going, what he was doing, with your cheek pressed down into the table this way. You had expected him to start slicing marks into your skin with his sharpest blade. But that wasn't what he had in mind just yet. Not daring to move your head, you stayed in silence as you listened to your king stride toward the far end of the room. Though you couldn't see him, you sensed that he was standing by the fireplace that flickered there, its light haunting and dim.

"Remember that tramp stamp you used to have?" your master asked, referring to the anti-possession tattoo that'd once been inked into the skin above your ass. It had been brutally burnt off before that one particularly dirty-minded demon had invaded your meatsuit. The demon whose betrayal of your secret kinks had led to all your deepest dreams about Dean coming true.

You would never forget. You couldn't, even if you wanted—the skin where the stamp had once been was scarred, bad, from the burns that you'd sustained. The mark that they had left was permanent. And you were grateful for it. Grateful that the mark would always stay, reminding you of that most fateful day.

"Some good it did," Dean snickered as you heard him finally start walking back toward you. "Couldn't protect you from that demon bitch, now, could it. But you're glad it didn't. Hell, the day that you got burnt—right... here..."

His fingers brushed against your tailbone, teasing at your scar, as he approached you from behind, his demon dick bumping briefly against your bare ass, huge and hard.

"...that was the best day of your goddamned life, you dirty piece of shit. Wasn't it."

You nodded, cheek scratching against the jagged wood beneath it as you did. Your king leaned down a bit, bringing his luscious lips near your ear, one of his hands still knuckling your scar. You then became aware of a mysterious source of heat radiating from the other. The hand that was completely hidden from your field of vision. _What had he brought back from the fire...?_

"Ready to get burned again, bitch?" he devilishly asked. "Ready for this to be the best day of your life? Your last?"

You were ready, always ready, for whatever he would give. For as long as you lived. And ever after that.

But ready as you were, nothing could have prepared you for the blinding pain that seared your tender skin just then, the red hot iron pressing hard into your scar. Your impulse was to arch your back in anguish as your eyes fell shut, immersing you in deep, explosive darkness streaked with stars, but your spine couldn't strain very far—Dean had brought his left hand up between your shoulder blades, pushing roughly down to keep your helpless body riveted in place. Splintery wood scraped against your nipples as you wriggled with your tits smashed up so hard into the table. Even through the mind-numbing hurt, you could feel Dean's perfect cock teasing against your crack, dripping precome all over your ass, slicking you up with his own sadistic arousal. You could smell it, rich and sweet, and you weren't even horrified to find that the fragrance of his juices was even more erotic when paired with the stench of burning flesh. His pleasure and your pain, one and the same, blending together so damn well.  _This had to be heaven. This had to be hell._

You heard the branding iron clatter to the floor once Dean was done, casting it aside to grab your leash in his right hand, the other hand still fixed in place against your back, as he drove his massive dick inside your ass with an animalistic grunt. He pushed down and pulled up all at once, jerking your collared neck backward and pressing down between your shoulders harder, with each violent thrust. You were too numb, too dead, to even scream from the excruciating pain, to even feel a thing. On some level, though, you still felt everything. You felt your king spit straight onto the patch of burnt up skin, your flesh sizzling from the exquisite sting. You felt his come erupt inside your gaping hole, soaking your inner walls, as he rammed his monster cock into you deeper than ever before and held himself there for what felt like a minute or more, your ravaged cheeks smashed hard against his sweaty balls, your asshole oozing blood all over him and squeezing in every last drop of demon seed, taking it all.

Dean kept his dick sheathed to the hilt inside you even after he was done filling you up with come. It wasn't even fucking softening. Such was the power of the demon juices coursing through him. _God_ , you thought, _Dean with no limits as a demon was so fucking hot_. So was the way he brought his right hand down to touch the searing mark that he had left on the small of your back, his fingers slowly tracing each line that the iron had branded deep into your skin.

"You feel that, bitch? Let's see if you can read my fucking fingertips."

 _Shit. This was so twisted._ And you loved it. You struggled to follow the path of his finger, to make sense of it in your head, but your head was still fucking spinning from your recent pounding. And in any event, you knew, you were too damn stupid. But then, all of a sudden, something clicked. It was like his touch synced up directly with your brain, his every move pouring into the bloodstream that pulsated through your veins. You knew exactly what your brand new tramp stamp said. And it was perfect.

"Tell me what it says, slut," he ordered, his dominant finger flicking upward as it reached the end of the last letter. "Tell me what you are."

Your lips parted to proclaim your name, the only label you would ever need. All you were and all you longed to be. Forever. "Property of Dean Winchester."

With a satisfied growl, he finally pulled his dick out and flung you around, twining a firm hand in your hair and turning you to face him, and then he— _what the holy fuck_ —he kissed you on the mouth. You froze on the instant, utterly dumbfounded.  _That was... that was not supposed to happen. Not ever since he'd become a demon. What the..._

The heated kiss barely lasted for so much as a second. The moment Dean's sweet lips pulled off of yours, you knew you'd do best to pretend that it had never happened. You saw his eyes go black, upper lip curled in a disgusted snarl just before he smothered your whole face with his hand and forced your head down hard against the table, skull crashing painfully into the wooden surface. Whatever that kiss had been, if even anything, no matter how it made you feel for a second as if you were both— _human_... now the demon was back with a vengeance.

"You taste like shit," he hissed. "No wonder human Dean would always feel sick every time you kissed."

 _Oh, God._ That hurt a lot more than it should have. The demon was so back. And must have never left—he must have kissed you in that moment just to tease you and to torture you with how he would inevitably react. You felt a tear spill and were glad he couldn't see; he was still covering your whole pathetic face beneath his hand. Probably would never want to look at you again.

"Marked you up damn good, didn't I. That's all you'll ever be. My slave; my toy; my property to play with and destroy. Now anyone who sees you from behind will know you're mine," he sneered, using his other hand to push your hips and abdomen down hard into the table so that the scratchy wood dug into your seared skin. It hurt like a bitch. "But that's not enough. Is it."

Both of you knew that it wasn't.

"What if someone sees you from up front?" he taunted as you felt his right hand leave your torso and reach for a nearby weapon. "What the fuck should we do about that, you worthless little cunt?"

You could barely breathe beneath the unrelenting pressure of his hand. You knew that you didn't deserve to, but you wanted so badly to look up at his gorgeous face again. To behold his beauty now as he began to tease your vulnerable body with the cold edge of his vicious blade. But no; his hand was set in place to hide your filthy face, and there it stayed.

"Hmm," he demonically hummed as the knife came to pause on the sensitive flesh above one of your tits. And then, all of a sudden— _holy bloody shit_ —the sharp tip breached the surface. "How about this."

Just as had happened when his finger traced the words that had been branded, Dean's every movement in this moment sent a current through your blood that ran right to your head. You knew just what your king was carving into you: "D.W."

And he carved it in over and over again, marking up what felt like every inch of your skin. Somehow he knew exactly where to slash you up, exactly how deep and how far he could cut, without causing your blood to fatally drain, or even your consciousness to fade, just yet. He wanted you alive and awake for this. Feeling his demon dick leaking its sweet juice all over your clit, feeling your skin broken open for him, feeling every trickle of dark, sticky blood as it dripped. You gasped when Dean's palm finally dropped from your face to clamp around your throat in a tight grip. Though your eyes had been rolling back into your skull with each slice of his blade, you now managed to force yourself to meet his gaze, still wanting nothing more in all the world than to look up into his beautiful, beloved face.

Then he spat in your eyes. And you knew you deserved it, but you were so damn pathetic that it made you want to cry. _Maybe your tears could flush away his spit_ , you thought, _so that you could see him again._ In spite of and because of everything, that was all you ever wanted. To see him. To serve him. To love him.

"I should cut your fucking face up, too," your master snarled, finishing his bloody work on your torso and bringing his blade up to poke the skin beneath your chin. "Or maybe you should get some new tattoos. Yeah, I know a guy who could ink you up real nice. Let's see—maybe 'Dean's Dirty Bitch' right here on your forehead..."

You shivered as his knife artfully grazed your face, just deep enough to leave a trail of red, stenciling in the words that he had said.

"... and maybe spell out 'WHORE' across your face, like this," he suggested, scratching two letters in each cheek, then dragging the tip of the blade in a circle along the inner lining of your open mouth, "with the 'O' of it inked right into your lips."

 _So fucking wrong. So fucking right_ , you thought as your spilling tears started to wash the spit out of your eyes.

"Yeah, you would love that, slut. But you know what?" he snapped, letting his knife fall to the table and leaning low toward your face as more tears fell and finally cleared out your gaze. "You're not even worth the ink."

You blinked worshipfully up at him. _Yes, you knew it._

"You're not worth a fucking thing," Dean stated, picking up his gun again, pointing the barrel at your head as he wrapped his other hand around his cock and started rubbing it against your soaking cunt. "You're not even worth wasting a bullet from this goddamned gun."

It hurt to be worth nothing. But this pain was all you ever craved from your powerful god, your perfect king.

"That's why I only loaded one," he told you, lifting the gun and giving the cylinder a sinister spin. "Just one bullet in one chamber of this big bad revolver. So I can play Russian roulette with your dumb little head. Aim this thing at your face... then let Lady Luck decide whether you're worth the waste."

 _Fuck_ —it was the absolute dumbest thing, but as your master uttered those morbid words, all you could think in this moment was how he had spoken of luck as if she were another woman. It was so fucking stupid of you to think it. And yet you knew it'd been no accident. You both knew that was the limit that he hadn't broken through... the limit that had broken you. He had meant it in that way; you just knew. _He wanted to let some other woman decide how you died. It was the only way that death by Dean's hand wouldn't be what you desired—the only way to really, truly kill you from the inside._

Dean let out a demonic laugh as he read all the devastated thoughts running across your mind. "And you know Lady Luck's a whole lot hotter than you, too. So much prettier than you. I should make sweet love to her after we kill you together."

 _God. Those words cut you up real good._ Deeper than any blade or any bullet ever could.

"Yeah. And I bet it would hurt even more if you knew, that even back when I was human, even back when I supposedly loved you..." he scoffed just at the thought of it, the false love that never could have been true, "even then... that's what I _always_ wanted to do."

You were so done. At this point you wished you could eat the damn bullet straight out of that gun. You were so torn up that you almost felt ashamed of just how hot and wet you felt as Dean kept teasing his enormous cock against your dripping cunt.

And he knew it. "You know what's really fucking sad for you?" he asked, shifting his gun a bit to point it at your chest. Your beating heart, broken and bleeding through and through. "The fact that you've got no clue whether all this shit that I've been saying about your precious human Dean is even true."

Your heart paused for a second. _What? Of course it was..._

"On the one hand," Dean said, briefly letting go of his cock to sting one of your cheeks with a sharp little slap, "it sure hurts like hell if it is. And deep down, you've always believed it."

_Yes. Of course you did._

"But on the other hand," he said as he dealt a slap to your other cheek then, "have you ever stopped to think just how much it would ruin you if none of that was ever true? If, all this time, I've just been fucking with your dumb head like we demons love to do?"

_No. Of course you hadn't thought of that. Why would you._

"Mmm. 'Course you haven't. You were always too stupid, too full of self-hatred, for that," Dean spat, drawing the barrel of his gun in a line down your trembling body, toward your throbbing cunt. "You know... I think we've got one last game to play before Russian roulette."

You quivered at the thought of what your ruthless master might have in store now for his pathetic little pet...

"Here's how the game begins, bitch," Dean said, suddenly bringing the gun right back up to your head. His eyes were glowing emerald green now, choosing not to flash black, for some reason, as he stared you down. You met his gaze, powerless to do anything else. And then he uttered the most unimaginable words you'd ever heard. "Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me you don’t need this. Just tell me no. And I’ll let you go."

Dumbstruck, and awestruck and lovestruck as ever in his presence, you gaped up in wonder at your king. _What? You would never dream of doing such a thing._ In this instant, you were pretty sure that you couldn't do anything, not even so much as fucking blink. _Was this even him talking? There was no way it could be the demon..._

"You think this is the human Dean talking?" he asked, lips lifting up into a silent laugh as his eyes went pitch black. "Nah, this is all me. All demon. In fact... why don't I show you what the old Dean would be saying right about now."

You finally blinked, at that. _Show you...?_

"There’s a little switch that I can flip, you know. If I want to," Dean told you, dominance and darkness dancing in his deep black eyes. "That's right. He's been in here, in me, buried deep inside this skin, watching and hearing everything... the whole damn time."

_Fuck—this was too much..._

Your king leaned in, pink lips curled up into a twisted grin, hovering just above your face. "What do you say... we let him out to play."

You didn't have to say a thing. In a split second then, the man you loved: Dean Winchester, all human, heartbeat pure and true... was here with you. You looked into his crystalline golden-green eyes and you knew. You just knew.

You knew that it was him. And you knew— _this was surely what was going to be the death of you_ —you knew that he still loved you.

He didn't have to say a thing. Those beloved eyes of his did all the talking. In spite of everything, he loved you more than anything. And it was breaking _his_ heart, to see you get broken like this. Broken and beaten and bleeding to death. To see you begging for it. You had thought this was what you wanted, and yet... now you knew. You were breaking Dean's heart. _You were breaking Dean Winchester's heart._

What you felt in this moment was beyond the pain of getting torn apart. There were no words, no thoughts, that could even begin to describe what this meant. It was beyond pain. _Beyond everything..._

Your heart shattered all over again as you watched a lone tear rise to one of Dean's eyes. Your heart bled as it fell. The demon in him was still firmly in control; you could tell. Only the eyes were human. Nothing else. He couldn't move a muscle, couldn't say a word.

But then he did. Somehow, the man must have wrestled control of his voice from the demon. Your eyes dropped to Dean's trembling lips as you heard human words slip past them. Softly, sweetly. "[Y/N]... say no to him. Please. He's not me."

Your heart suddenly sank. There was no way that he could mean what you feared most... _could he?_ The demon was still Dean. Had always been. If he were anybody else, you would've known. He was a deeply different form of him, of course, but still Dean nonetheless. 

 _Or had you been mistaken about this?_ You couldn't even bear to think it. But you had to ask.

"It’s... it’s not? So you're possessed by someone else?" you whispered, words weighted with dread. "Some...  _thing_ else?"

Dean paused and bit his lip. You could tell that he wanted to lie, more than anything in this moment. But he wouldn’t. He was too righteous for that. Even if the truth killed you both, it was all he could tell. "Well... no it’s—he’s a part of me. A part that’s been twisted into something I shouldn’t be. He’s the monster inside me."

It was so fucked up, you knew, that the feeling that now overcame you was a rush of pure relief. But that sensation was soon followed by a thousand other feelings. Twisted feelings. You couldn't begin to make sense of any of them...

Then clarity struck, suddenly, as you gazed into the bright green eyes you loved so much. The eyes you loved so much no matter the color. The man or the monster. There was only one feeling that would ever matter. One feeling that meant everything.

So you told him. "Then I love him, Dean," you murmured as you dared to raise your lips up toward his face to kiss away the stray tears that had fallen. Whenever you would see him cry, no matter when, no matter why... this was all you could do. "I love you. Whatever part of you takes over, in any given moment, that is who I love."

You could see and feel his heart breaking in half, then into millions of pieces. And you could tell that, in this moment, Dean was doing his damnedest to hold all the pieces together. For you. Just to give you something to hold on to. "Then right now you love me," he breathed. "The man, the human that I am. And I love you. _Please_ hold on to that."

You stopped kissing his tears for a second, resting your head back against the rough surface beneath it just so that you could look up at his flawless face. You knew he wanted you to meet his gaze. And you only ever wanted what he wanted.

"You have to know that _nothing_ he told you about me is true. Not a damn thing. I love you. I love you so much, [Y/N]. And I’m begging you to bring this to an end," he implored, his loving eyes more heartbreakingly human than you'd ever seen before. "To save yourself. To save the woman I love. _Please_."

He was so beautiful like this. So fucking perfect. The reply fell from your lips before you even knew it. The only possible answer. "Yes, sir."

You could never say no to Dean Winchester. You could never dream of saying anything else to the man that you loved. But you knew you could never say no to the monster inside of him, either.

Dean must have known it, too. But in this moment, he denied it, like he always loved to do with every dark and damning truth. He chose to feel relief and gratitude and happiness, and to believe in you, because he knew that you needed him to. "Oh God, thank you. _Thank you_ , [Y/N]. Just say no to him then," he begged in earnest. "I know you can do this. Promise me you will, [Y/N]. Promise?"

You wished that you could do it; every fiber of your being wanted nothing more than to do as Dean said. As you ever did. And yet you couldn’t make this promise. This was one order you couldn't obey, one promise that you couldn't make. Because it was one you were doomed to break. _You couldn't do this..._

But you wouldn’t have to. You gasped as Dean's eyes suddenly flashed black.

The demon was back.

"Are we having fun yet?" he devilishly asked. "That was really fucking cute. You know what else is cute? The fact that I'm not even gonna tell you whether all of that was real... or just a damn good act."

 _Holy fuck._ You should've been prepared for that.

"So what’s it gonna be? You gonna say no to me?" he goaded wickedly, suddenly driving his cock deep inside your wet slit as he finally brought his finger to the trigger of his gun, pressing the muzzle straight into the center of your forehead. "You got the balls for that, cunt? Or are you desperate to die for me tonight, the way I want?"

You felt a tear slip down your cheek. You weren't sure whether it was yours or Dean's. Whether it had come from your eye, or from his when he'd been here with you, shedding tears moments ago that had fallen onto your skin. When he'd been human. _If he truly even had been._ You thought you knew, but this demon only ever let you believe what he wanted you to.

And you only ever wanted what he wanted.

So you told him. The only possible answer. "I’m already dead, sir. I’m yours. Always will be. Please just do whatever you want to me."

Your eyes locked onto his. All black. The eyes you loved so much no matter the color. The man or the monster. You loved him. Nothing else would ever matter.

You held your breath then, as your gaze fell to his finger on the trigger.

Everything that came next was a blur.

The dungeon door burst open, you remembered. Dean turned to see his favorite blue-eyed angel, and his beloved little brother. You remembered thinking they had come to fuck you. To use you as their cockslut. That the demon had decided to whore you out after all, just as he had threatened after breaking your first limit. You remembered feeling ready for that. You felt ready for anything, then. Already beyond dead. You remembered loud noises and violence. But none against you, in that moment. Whatever else had happened in that dungeon, you'd forgotten. At some point in the midst of it, consciousness had just faded from your head.

And then you woke up in the bunker. In your room. The bedroom you and Dean had shared, not long ago. Back when you had both been human. Both of you were so much less, now. So much more.

You glanced down to see that you were tucked nicely in bed. Wearing the least slutty pair of pajamas you had. You blinked as you saw your skin, free from so much as a scar or a scratch, clean and pristine as a baby. For a second, then, you wondered if your time in that dungeon had all been a dream... but that second quickly passed. This was all Cas: the completely healed wounds, the neatly folded bedsheets, the conservative pajamas. He had brought you home and wanted you to feel safe, in a space as different as possible from Dean's sex torture dungeon. And it was. But the mark that your time with the demon had left ran deeper than the surface. Far deeper. It was a mark that was all too real, one that you could still feel, one that a demon had dealt and which no angel could ever heal. _A mark made to last._

Before you could move from the bed, the door opened. The other Winchester walked in. And before you could say anything, or even think about the filthy crap that the demon had told you about him, you met his eyes and all you saw was a brother. The brother of the man you loved above all else—probably the only soul on earth who might come close to loving Dean as much as you did. And your own brother. Your own family. Sam Winchester loved you like a sister, and you needed that right now, more than you knew.

But not nearly as much as you needed his brother. All you could ever really think about was Dean.  _Where was he? How was he? When could you see him again...?_

Sam sat on the edge of your bed and forced a smile. You knew that he was trying to come off as comforting. It wasn't really working. "It's okay, [Y/N]. You're safe. We've got Dean. He's still a demon, for now, but we—we're gonna cure him."

You had questions. Lots of questions. _Cure him of what? Being a demon? Will it hurt him? Sorry but I really need his cock right now, so, um, when can I suck it again? Won't he want to take my memories away if he turns back to human? What if some sick part of me sort of wants him to stay a demon?_

You didn't end up asking any of those questions. Especially not the last one. Deep down, you already knew the answers to all of them.

Cas told you later that he and Sam had been searching for Dean for quite some time while he was a demon, to no avail, and that Cas had finally been able to find him thanks to a sudden strong surge of human connection. A desperate prayer of sorts that Dean had sent out to him. You wondered if the human Dean had sent it during that brief moment when the demon had supposedly let him in. _Had that moment been real, then? Not a dark devilish act?_ You wondered. But until you saw Dean again, human or demon, you weren't sure if it even mattered. 

Sam and Cas both gave you firm instructions not to leave your room. They knew better than to expect you to obey, though, when Dean was so close and when his safety was at stake. So they locked you in.

And you waited. And waited. Hours passed. Then days. The angel and the younger Winchester would come to check up on you often.

One day, then, you thought you heard some sort of struggle taking place across the bunker. But you weren't sure. You assumed, at first, that you had just imagined it.

But on that day, the next time your door opened... it was him.

It was him. And in that moment, you didn't even want to care whether he was the man or the monster, human or demon. It was just _him_.

But you had to care, you knew. You had to wonder. And you did.  _If he is human, surely he is only here to say goodbye_ , you thought.  _Goodbye forever. For the second and last time._  And then, you knew, he would make sure that every single memory you had of him was taken. There was no way he would let Castiel disobey him again. With one touch, the angel would wipe your mind clean; once you were robbed of Dean, you weren't sure if anything else would be left. You would be well and truly bereft. Of everything, the man for whom you lived, the one to whom you had devoted your entire being. Bereft of him and of yourself. You could imagine nothing worse than that, and yet you knew that it was just what Dean would want. The pure, true Dean. The human Dean with whom you fell in love so deeply and completely. The man for whom your heart would always beat.

_And if he was the demon..._ you knew exactly what would happen, then.

All of these thoughts raced through your head in the split second as the door opened. Dean's head was slightly lowered, and he hadn't even lifted it to look at you yet. That was how swiftly these thoughts all occurred in your head. _So what would it be, then? Was Dean back in his own skin? Was he human? Would his beloved eyes be that bright, beautiful shade of green that first captured your heart, or would they flash jet black, the darkness that was destined to tear you apart?_

The man who would destroy your precious memories of him. Or the demon who had already destroyed everything else, every part of your body, your heart and your soul. You loved every part of Dean, and so you loved both forms of him. You wanted both. But, deep down, you knew just what you wanted most.

Your heart stopped as Dean Winchester lifted his head. His eyes opened.

And you saw just what you wanted.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did YOU see when Dean's eyes opened? ;)
> 
> I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS IS THE END. THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH AGAIN <3 I've been so grateful for all you lovely readers — I never would have imagined that this filthy fantasy would get such an awesome reaction... I will really miss you and your comments!!! It'd be great to hear from all my loyal commenters again one last time on this chapter. And from anyone else who's been enjoying this but hasn't commented yet. Please join the party and chime in :) I'd love to hear from you all!! 
> 
> What were your favorite parts of this fic? Did it turn you on to any new kinks? What did you love about Dean here, as human and/or demon? Do you love and want to worship him even more after reading this filth?! I definitely do after writing it...
> 
> **********
> 
> Now that this fic is finished, I'll probably be posting some other Deanfics that I had begun writing earlier, before I started focusing on this one. As a heads up, these new fics won't be nearly as sick and twisted as this, because what ever could be :P They will have more plot and dialogue etc., though there will still be plenty of smutty scenes. I know that must be disappointing to those of you who enjoyed this fic only for the shameless filth that it is, so I'm sorry about that... but honestly I'm all kinked out after writing this — I've explored the full extent of my dark, twisted Dean-worshiping dreams and probably couldn't even attempt to write anything like this again, haha. I'm a writer at heart, not just a porn-peddler, so the stories in my head are about more than just sex. This fic was an exception and was so worth it ;) 
> 
> Hopefully there are at least a few of you who enjoyed my actual writing and will still enjoy it even in a story that's not so intensely smutty! Again, there *will* still be plenty of sex scenes with Dean. Just not as much, and not quite as dirty and twisted, as this. So if you're interested, you can look out for those new fics and subscribe if you'd like :)
> 
> Anyhoo, thanks again sooo much for following this journey!! Lots of love and sweet dirty Deandreams to all of you <3


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